Destiny at the Haunted Mansion
by Aquarian Wolf
Summary: Destiny just bought a house. It's a big old mansion. Unfortunately, she wasn't told about the 999 ghosts haunting it, the curse, or the nosy paranormal investigator. And why does that guy in the painting look so familiar?
1. PrologueThe Master's Death

A/N: You may have noticed that this story was given a T rating. There are a few parts that are a little violent and gory. Minimum language is used, but there are some "adult situations".

As far as other disclaimers go, I created the characters Destiny Chalmers, Craig Jordan, Koji Wendell, Dustin T. Dust, Asher T. Ashes, Bea Witch, and Rolly. (The names "Dustin T. Dust", "Asher T. Ashes", and "Bea Witch" can be found on mausoleums by the exit of the ride, though. I cannot take credit for those wonderful names.) Unless otherwise noted later, everyone else comes from the Disney ride.

* * *

Destiny at the Haunted Mansion

Prologue

_1943…_

Demons and ghouls shrieked and popped out from behind every shadow, reaching for him.

"Come 'ere, George! There's always room for one more!" a specter shrieked as it jumped out from behind Madam Leota's red, velvet high-backed chair. Leota's cruel, dark laughter echoed through the dark séance room.

"Goblins and creeps," the mystic chanted, "wherever you're sitting, come out now, and do my bidding!" Her voice was raspy, tinged with venom and hate.

"Leave me alone!" George Gracey screamed. Madam Leota just cackled with malicious delight and sat back in her chair and gazed into the crystal ball sitting on the table before her.

The ghouls guffawed and sniggered as he stumbled and tripped, trying desperately to find his way out of the séance room. Finally, he found the door, yanked it open, and practically flew down the stairs. _Lily! She had killed Lily! And Emily… Oh God what have I done!_ George thought as he raced down the dark hallway. The screams and moans of Madam Leota's wraiths chased him, clawing at his heels. The eyes in the family portraits seemed to follow him, piercing into his terrified soul.

George ran into the foyer. As he frantically looked about for any kind of means of escape, his eyes happened to catch sight of the handsome portrait of himself that hung above the fireplace. It was at least twenty years old; he had been about twenty-three when it was painted. His own bright blue eyes seemed to glare down at him, and that smug, aristocratic smile he had worn looked as if it had curled into a cruel smirk. Before his very eyes, the portrait aged and withered until it was a picture of a long-dead corpse. It was like watching a train wreck. At the same time George was horrified looking at it, he was unable to take his gaze off. Forcing his will to be stronger than his fear, he managed to tear his eyes away from the Dorian Gray-esque image and rushed to the front door. With a ferocity he did not know he had, he turned and yanked the door handle so hard it should have broken off.

"You can't escape your fate, Master Gracey," George heard Madam Leota say calmly. He turned around, but he could not see her anywhere. Her dark, sadistic chuckle reverberated in the room, sending chills racing up his spine. Suddenly, tarot cards flew into the foyer and whirled around him like a fortune telling tornado. One card separated from the others and hovered in front of George's face.

As it dawned on him what was on it, the color drained from George's cheeks and his eyes grew wide in fear. Pictured on the tarot card was a skeleton swinging from a hangman's noose. With a grimace, he slapped the cards away and watched as they fluttered to the floor.

George frantically looked around, seeking any escape route. There had to be some way out of the mansion. He spied a small sliver of light coming through a wooden panel of the wall. _Of course, _hethought, _the gallery!_

He ran to the hidden sliding panel that served as a door and pulled it open. Inside was a small, round room. The gallery was lit by ten gargoyle candleholders that were perched along the walls. They were high enough up that George had to stand on his tiptoes to reach a candle. Higher up along the walls were portraits: his mother, Mary; his first wife, Lily; his uncle, Edward Gracey; and another relative. The paintings, George had always thought, never looked complete. It always seemed like something had been covered up. He regretted not taking a closer look at the portraits before they had been hung up on the gallery walls, but Leota had been so insistent at having them put up that she did not even wait for him to finish building the gallery.

Holding the candle close to the walls, George searched for the second door. When he was building the room, it had seemed like such an imaginative idea at the time to have two sliding "hidden" doors. Had he even completed the second door? He searched his memory, but he could not find any clues. He had not even built windows yet! He silently cursed.

With a loud BAM! the open door slammed shut.

Madam Leota's laughter echoed throughout the gallery. "Don't you regret not finishing this room, George? You can't escape! This chamber has no windows and no doors!" She laughed again, her voice sending chills of pure terror down George's spine. He looked up at the unfinished ceiling, but there was no way he could get up there, into the attic, and get to the balcony that led down into the backyard. There had to be a second door somewhere!

"Hey! What the-?" George began to yell. He started to float up and felt as if strong, invisible hands were holding him around his waist. The force carried him upwards, towards the unfinished ceiling. For a fleeting, terrified moment, George thought Leota would bash his head into the ceiling's rafters. He closed his eyes, waiting for the painful impact.

But it did not come. He slowly opened his right eye, and then his left eye. He almost sighed in relief until he realized he was hovering near the gallery's ceiling, and the top of his head was mere centimeters away from the large, wood support beams. _Is she teasing me or waiting for me to do something? Is she trying to decide what to do with me?_ The anticipation and suspense was almost as bad as the painful death he had envisioned. He was almost thankful when he heard her hair-raising chortle.

"You can't run from me, George, because I see all! I can control your soul through my crystal ball!" Leota chanted giddily, in a mocking, child-like tone. She giggled, clearly pleased with her little rhyme.

"No!" screamed George at the top of his lungs. He felt something slap the side of his face. He looked up and saw a rope dangling from the rafters of the unfinished ceiling. The rope brushed his cheek again and he was suddenly reminded of the tarot card. "What are you going to do to me, Leota?" George managed to ask as calmly as he could as he floated nearly thirty feet in the air. "Are you going to kill me? Just like you killed Lily! Just like you killed everyone I loved!"

"Oh, no, Master Gracey. Death is too good for you. I'm not going to kill you; I'm going to keep you imprisoned forever!" Leota started to chant. Her words were so melodic and haunting that they sank into George's brain and down into his soul. He felt compelled to close his eyes and listen. He could not tell what language it was. Latin? French? It did not matter. Nothing seemed to matter anymore…

George felt as if his soul were being torn away, as if his spirit were no longer his own or under his control. He was being pulled into a sickly green light…

The swinging rope slapped his face again and his thoughts cleared for a brief moment. He opened his eyes and blinked a few times. He had to fight! He had to think of some way to get away from her!

"I'll never be your prisoner, Leota!" He reached up and wearily grabbed the rope, a plan formulating in his cloudy mind. He struggled to loop the end of the rope into a loose noose while tears burned in his eyes. Even when he could properly think straight, he could not even tie a decent knot, much less a noose! But George decided now was not the time to dwell on such frivolous facts as he managed to create something akin to a small lasso.

Leota continued her strange chant, too caught up in it to notice as George pulled the noose down over his head and under his chin. "I would rather be dead than be your hostage," George muttered through gritted teeth.

She was silent for only a couple of seconds as she took in this new change of plans. After giving it only another moment's thought, the psychic said coolly, "As you wish, Master Gracey."

At the snap of her fingers, the force holding George in the air suddenly let go of him and he dropped. He hoped his death would be quick, but he was not so fortunate. Rather than snapping his neck, the noose just tightened painfully. His body swung from left to right as he choked and hot tears poured down his cheeks. Memories flashed though his mind and he saw faces of friends and lost loves.

In her séance room, Madam Leota was still watching him. "But I'll have you know, Master Gracey, that death isn't an escape. You will be doomed to roam Gracey Mansion forever!" Leota smiled complacently, pulled her long, black hair across her shoulder, and relaxed in her chair. She looked into her crystal ball and watched with malevolent glee as George's body swung like a clock's pendulum. She leaned over the orb and immediately felt herself being pulled forward by an incredibly strong force. "No!" she shrieked. She struggled with all of her might, but she could not prevent her backfired magic from pulling her soul into the crystal ball.

George Gracey allowed a small, smug smile to flicker across his pale lips as he closed his eyes. His body slowly stopped swinging and he gladly accepted death._

* * *

_


	2. Enter Destiny

Chapter One

_2003…_

_This, _thought Destiny Chalmers bitterly, _is the third worst day of my life._ It ranked just below the day when she discovered that her then fiancé, Craig Jordan, was having an affair with her former boss on the day she lost her job. However, today was just above the day she moved into her small, disgusting apartment. Both events had taken place just a little over a month ago.

She was in a job interview, and her former husband-to-be was evaluating her résumé. Craig Jordan certainly wasn't the most mature man, and could be quite petty when he wanted to be. Destiny knew he was still nursing a wounded ego. Nevermind the fact that he wronged _her_. The way he saw it, _she_ walked out on him when he tried to apologize to her, and _she _ignored all of his phone calls and messages and e-mails, all of which consisted of him pleading and begging for forgiveness.

As a way of spiteful revenge, he had called her into his office two hours after the appointed time, and after she had taken her seat in front of his desk, he made two calls on his cell phone. (Perhaps it had been her imagination, but Destiny could have sworn that, after the person Craig had called hung up, Craig was still having his oh-so important sounding conversation, just to take up her time.) Had she not been so desperate for a job, Destiny would not have even given Frees Construction Company a second thought, but she had been rejected from a power plant and a corporation that created and repaired heating and cooling systems.

Destiny watched as Craig purposely took an exaggeratedly long look over her paperwork and forms. His black, pinstripe business suit strained against his trim, muscular physique. He had a head of curly light brown hair, which was over gelled, giving him that God-awful _Joe Millionaire _look. Craig had been the vainest man Destiny had ever met. He had spent twice as much time in front of the mirror in the morning than she did.

_So, why on Earth did I agree to date him, much less become engaged to him?_ Destiny thought. She blamed it on prodding and provoking from both Craig and her mother, Miriam. She could hear her mother's grating voice now: "Destiny, how can such a pretty girl like you be single at your age?" _Oh, gee, thirty. Yeah, I'm close to being an old geezer, aren't I?_ "You need to find a man and settle down before you wind up old and lonely!"

Craig had been no better. He was obsessive about her. Even early on, she suspected she had been nothing more than a trophy for him to wrap his arm around when he chatted with friends of his at parties. When he had proposed to her, she panicked and went against her better judgment, and stuttered, "Y-Yes?"

She inwardly winced at the memory. _Coward! Well, I'm not a coward any more! I came here, didn't I? _She sat up a bit straighter.

Craig cleared his throat and she was jolted out of her thoughts. She shifted her slender, petite form in her uncomfortable chair and gave a slight tug to the end of her gray skirt to smooth out any wrinkles.

He pushed the papers together, tapped them on his desk, and put them in an immaculately even pile on the corner of it. "After looking at your past experiences, I'd say you would be an incredible asset to the Frees Construction Company. _But _the position isn't _exactly_ open yet, but it will be quite soon, let me assure you. However," he paused and neatly folded his hands on his desk, "there are so _many _applicants that are just _perfect_ for our opening in the Design department and many more that are waiting for me to give them an interview. So, as you can see, I can't _guarantee_ the job," he said with a chuckle.

Destiny forced a small smile and nodded. _You bold-faced liar,_ she thought, _I was the only person out there waiting to be interviewed. _

"I understand," said Destiny, still forcing the smile. She watched as he stood up, and she took his cue and got up and began to walk towards his office door. She stopped when he put a hand on her shoulder.

Smiling slyly, he continued, "The whole process isn't completely in my control, but if, say, someone you knew at the company could put in a good word for you, that would certainly increase your chances." One hand on the wall behind her, bracing on it, he leaned forward, his face so close to hers that they were almost touching noses. "Would you like to finish this conversation over dinner? We could put past… _incidents,_" he waved the word away with his free hand,"behind us. You and me, and a candlelit dinner, just like old times."

Destiny let out a sigh of frustration and disgust. She took a step back from him and picked up his arm, holding it as if it were some vile piece of garbage she couldn't stand to touch, and dropped it at his side. "Look, I may be desperate for a job, but I'm not desperate enough that I'd willingly waste one moment of my spare time with you." She opened his door. "Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Jordan. I wish you luck with all those _many _applicants." She gave him a thin smile, a curt nod, and then walked out.

* * *

Destiny was berating herself by the time she made it to the parking lot and had gotten into her blue Ford Focus. She scowled at her reflection in the rearview mirror. "You blew it," she huffed. "A great job just flushed down the tubes because of your pride and your… self respect." Slumping forward, she hit her forehead on the steering wheel in defeat. "No, I made the right choice." She sat up. "There's more opportunities out there, and more places for me to call tomorrow. I've got one heck of a résumé and--" Her résumé! She'd left it in Craig's office! Although she did have another copy, it seemed such a waste to leave it at his office when she knew she was not going to get the job anyway. Those blasted things were not cheap, either. She hit the steering wheel with her fist. "Aw, crap!"

She got out of her car and trudged back into the cold, massive building and walked up to the receptionist's desk. The young blond woman was busy filing her nails, oblivious to Destiny's entrance. Destiny cleared her throat. The receptionist put down her nail filer and looked up at her.

"How can I help you?" asked the way-too-perky woman. A little placard that read "Tina" sat on the desk.

"I was just in here for a job interview..." Destiny peered at the sign. "Tina. I need to go back and get my résumé. I left it in Mr. Jordan's office."

"Oh, you're Miss Chalmers, right?" After she watched Destiny nod, the receptionist continued. "Mr. Jordan doesn't have it anymore."

"He doesn't?" squeaked Destiny, feeling panic rise in her chest. "Who does?"

"Oh, that'll be Mr. Greskill. He's the head of the Human Resources Department. He reads through all the applications and makes the decision on who gets hired or not. And I must say, he seemed really impressed with your résumé. I wouldn't be surprised if you get a call from him soon."

"Wow, that was pretty quick…" Destiny muttered thoughtfully. She blinked. "You're serious? What about Craig-- I mean," she shook her head, "Mr. Jordan?"

"As the company's Vice President, he certainly has a say in the applicants he screens and interviews, but Mr. Greskill actually makes the final cuts."

Destiny nodded. "Thanks." Smiling inwardly, she turned and began the long walk back to her car. She could get the job, and not have to spend one insufferable minute with Craig outside of work. _Chances are I probably won't have to even see him unless we have some sort of important meeting. _She could deal with that. Feeling as if a great weight lifted off of her shoulders, she unlocked her car door. _Slowly but surely, life is getting better. _


	3. A Battle of Wits

Chapter Two

Destiny Chalmers was a bright woman. Advanced degrees in civil, electrical, and mechanical engineering easily proved that. However, she had two downfalls to her personality: She was quick tempered and stubborn. When she was a young girl, her father, Charles, seemed to make it a personal goal to tell her at least once every day that she would "argue with a fence post" if she felt she had a point to prove. (Indeed, she had at one point in her life spent an hour kicking and yelling at a picket fence post that she had been trying to repair when the defiant piece of wood refused to stand upright.) She was sure that her stubbornness came from her father's side of the family.

Twenty years ago, that headstrong streak had cost him his life. Destiny had blurry memories of the tragedy. She and her parents had been staying at her grandparents' home. At some point during the night, sparks caused from some faulty wiring had landed on a piece of furniture and the home quickly caught fire. After Charles had carried ten-year-old Destiny out of the burning house and had made sure his wife was outside with her, he ran back in to find his parents.

Firefighters and paramedics had told him to stay outside and had even tried to hold him back, but he shoved them aside and raced back into the inferno. The roof collapsed in, and Charles and his parents never made it out alive.

It was that horrible childhood disaster that had driven Destiny to studying multiple forms of engineering. Knowing what she knew now, the incident could have been avoided. Night after night, she had awakened in a cold sweat, shivering and shaking as the memories took the form of nightmares and plagued her as she slept. Guilt nagged at the back of her mind after these night terrors. She had to constantly remind herself that she had been ten when it happened, and the average ten-year-old took little notice of a few puny sparks when she flicked on a light switch or plugged in an appliance; nor would the average ten-year-old look up at the ceiling of an old house and perceive the weak points of it. She had to convince herself that it had taken years of studying and hands-on experience to realize the importance of the little details that could have devastating effects.

Destiny grabbed her paper bag filled with groceries and wearily stepped out of her car. It had been a long, trying day for her. She locked the car doors and turned on its alarm and trudged into the apartment complex. Like many of the buildings in the large town of Liberty Square, Toombs Apartments had an almost Colonial look to it. The old, four-story brick building was not in a friendly part of the city, and crime was not as uncommon as Destiny would have hoped. The bottle of pepper spray on her key ring and a small firearm tucked into her purse was a little comfort, especially during the long, dark nights.

She groaned when she approached the elevator. A crude, cardboard sign with "OUT OF SERVICE" written in black marker was taped to the doors. She stamped her foot on the worn, brown carpet with a frustrated cry of "Monkey fudger!" Muttering her list of her own unique, childish curses, she stomped up three flights of stairs.

Destiny was not poor, just a little low on funds. She was also thrifty. It seemed so long ago that she had sold her small home and moved into Craig's condo. After leaving him, she had needed a place to stay and fast. Even if Miriam had offered it, Destiny would not live with her mother. Toombs Apartments was fairly close to any decent job offering. Constantly, she assured herself that it was only temporary, at least until she knew where she would be working so she could buy a nicer home close to her new career.

She had never been happier to see her apartment. She unlocked the door and stepped in without turning on the light. As the door creaked open, dozens of cockroaches went skittering about, searching for a hiding spot. Destiny placed her grocery bag on the floor just outside of the door. Grinning wickedly, she pulled a metal container out of the paper bag. In bold, yellow letters on the can was, "Roach Bomb! © Guaranteed pest killer!" It was shaped like a grenade, complete with a pull pin.

She read over the instructions silently, mouthing the words. "Pull out pin, toss Roach Bomb! © into cockroach infested area, wait five minutes for poison gas to clear, then sweep up the dead bodies." It sounded simple enough.

She let out a battle cry of, "See you in Hell, cuchcarachas!" Then she pulled out the pin with her teeth and tossed the grenade-shaped can into her apartment. She jumped back into the hallway and slammed the door shut. After a few seconds, she pressed her ear against the door and listened as the spray hissed out of the can.

She slumped back against the wall, slowly slid down, and plopped onto the floor. Smiling, the woman thought of her tormentors gasping for air. She could just hear their little tortured cries and screams for help as their insect brethren lay dying around them. She could picture the roaches falling backwards onto their brown, shelled backs, kicking their six icky little legs in the air. They would wave their little white flags of surrender, but she would just let them die as she laughed at their horrible demise. Victory would soon--

"Ma'am?"

Destiny shook her head and looked up at the man standing at the other end of the hall. She quickly recognized him as one of the apartment's janitors.

"Ma'am, are you okay?" he asked. He looked genuinely terrified. His eyes were large and wide with fear. He held his vacuum cleaner defensively, as if he'd brandish it at a moment's notice. "You were laughing really manically. It was kind of scary."

Destiny felt her face flush. "Oh, um, I was just thinking of the roach bomb in my apartment," she offered lamely. She pointed to her door and stood up. "I better, uh, go check on it." She smiled nervously as she opened her door, grabbed her groceries, and then dashed inside. After slamming the door behind her, she locked it and turned on the light. Placing her grocery bag on the kitchen counter, she scanned the area.

She had expected to find the floor covered with roach carcasses. Instead, there was just one in the center of her tiny kitchen. It was lying on its back and flailing its little legs in the air. She scowled. _Well, at least it got one. _

No sooner had the thought gone through her mind than the roach managed to flip itself over and took off running.

"Oh no you don't, you little vermin!" Destiny took off one of her high heels and chased after it. Wearing one shoe and wielding the other, she fell to her knees onto the floor and tried to squash the darting insect. It crawled across her left hand, which was flat against the kitchen tile. Her temper over clouded her better judgment and she raised her lethal shoe into the air and brought the heel down onto the back of her left hand, microseconds after the bug scurried away into the shadows. She cried out in pain and dropped the shoe to cradle her injured hand. She could swear she heard the cockroaches laughing at her.

After a dinner of dull soup and a lukewarm shower, Destiny plodded into the living room to watch some mind-numbing T.V. As she picked the remote up off of the end table, she noticed a little scrap of paper about an inch and a half wide and two inches in length. It had been underneath the remote. She would have just tossed it into the wastebasket, but her curiosity got the better of her and she held it up close to her face to inspect it. It was a newspaper clipping, an ad. The words had faded and the parchment had yellowed. The edges of the little paper square were frayed, as if it had been torn out by hand, instead of cut out with scissors. She read it out loud to herself.

"For sale, Dutch-Gothic mansion. Spacious grounds. Many rooms. Modern plumbing. 20K or best offer. Interested, contact Dick O' Dell." Then it listed his number and the address of the mansion. She scoffed. "Yeah, right. For that price, it's probably a dilapidated piece of junk."

She crumpled up the paper and tossed it into the trashcan on her way to her bedroom.

* * *

Destiny awoke to the shrill droning of her alarm clock the next morning. Without lifting her head up from beneath her pillow, she smacked the alarm's snooze button. Something stuck to her hand. She tried shaking it off, but it wouldn't budge. Eyes bleary, she held her hand up to her face.

She was surprised to see a little square of paper on her palm. She sat up and pulled off the clipping. It was the very same paper she had thrown away last night. It had new crease lines on it from when she wadded it up and a little fleck of mustard was on the tip of it from landing on a dirty paper plate. It was impossible!

She clutched the paper in her hand and furrowed her brow. Somebody or _something _was messing with her head. "Dad?" she called out, half joking and half seriously considering supernatural shenanigans were to blame. She didn't get a reply from her dead father. "Fine, I'll call him. Are you happy?" Again there was no response from anyone, living or dead. She felt an odd shiver run down her spine but she decided to ignore and got up to get her phone.


	4. Beware of Hitchhiking Ghosts

Chapter Three

Destiny sighed and peered back down at her small notepad as she tried to drive at the same time. Richard O' Dell had given her slightly confusing directions which were made even more confusing by her sloppy handwriting. He had seemed like a nice enough man when she had spoken to him over the phone, but there was a nervous, jittery edge to his voice that made her feel a little apprehensive.

He had assured her that the mansion was in excellent condition, despite the cheap price he was willing to sell it for. He had been amazed that someone had actually wanted to buy the house, which caused Destiny to wonder whether or not there were some details he was refusing to share with her. All through their conversation, she kept thinking. _There has to be something wrong if nobody wants to buy such a huge home for such a low cost. _She kept pushing the notion aside and tried to think more optimistically. Soon, she might have her own _mansion_ and she would be rid of that cramped, cockroach infested Hell Hole she called an apartment!

Gracey Manor, as she soon learned it was called, was built sometime in the mid nineteenth century. It was in the oldest part of Liberty Square, far from the hustle and bustle of the commerce district. Woods surrounded the mansion, with the Irvine River running along the left side of it.

The more he talked about the location and appearance of the Manor, the more she felt an odd sensation of déjà vu, as if she hadactually visited it before.

Destiny felt her car jolt and heard the rumble of tires on bricks as she turned onto an old road that led into a sparse forest. Through the scraggly trees she could see parts of the mansion just a short distance away. _Oh my God, _she thought, feeling slightly giddy,_ I **have** seen this place before! Grandma took me here when I was little!_ _Wow, I can't believe after all these years…_ She turned her attention away from her contemplations and back to the road. She screamed and her heart jumped into her throat when she noticed the three figures that stood in the road not twenty feet from her car.

She slammed her foot on the brake and stared for at them for a moment while she caught her breath. What immediately caught her attention were their out of date clothes. The tallest man in the group had on an old, frayed coat that extended down nearly to his ankles and a bow tie rested under his chin. He was extremely thin, almost skeletal. His left thumb was sticking out in the classic hitchhiker pose and he waved his bowler derby in his left hand. The man in the middle was dwarfish looking, with a large nose and a long, scruffy beard that fell to the end of his baggy, white shirt. He could not have been more than three-and-a-half feet tall. Destiny suddenly panicked when she realized he had a metal chain shackled to his ankle. At the other end of the chain was a metal ball, which was cupped in his small hand. The last of the trio was a plump man with a lazy smile on his round face. He was dressed in a battered, plain suit, with an equally battered tie and top hat. Clutched in his right hand was a bulky carpetbag.

She closed her eyes for only a moment to gather her wits. _Geeze, what are they doing, standing in the road like that? They're going to get run over! _When she opened her eyes again, they were gone. It was if they had vanished. _They probably fled in terror after seeing me behind the wheel,_ she thought, feeling guilty. As she started to drive again, she glanced into her rearview mirror.

Staring back at her were the three men. They were lounging calmly in her backseat, with their legs crossed, and their hands behind their heads. The shortest one waved shyly at her. It took her a few seconds to realize that their bodies were transparent and slightly glowing with a blue-green tint.

_Holy crap, I see dead people. _After several tries, Destiny finally found her voice. "What--what do you want?" she squeaked. Her eyes were glued to the mirror; she was too terrified to look away from the ghosts.

The skinniest phantom leaned forward with an extraordinarily large grin on his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but the plump ghost pushed him back with a panicked cry of "Look out!"

Destiny's fear of the spooks was quickly replaced with a fear of crashing into the huge, wrought iron gates at the edge of the mansion's driveway. She scarcely managed to press down on the brake fast enough and stopped the car mere inches away from the gates.

"Cripes lady, you're gonna kill someone if you keep drivin' like that!" exclaimed the skeletal specter. With a cackle, all three of the ghosts vanished.

Destiny was trembling as she got out of her car. She slammed the door shut, and locked the car and turned on the alarm with one quick push of a button on her key chain. She peered into the windows to make sure it was empty.

"I was just seeing things," she reasoned. "There wasn't anyone in there except me. I just feel asleep at the wheel. That's all." There was very little conviction in that statement.

"Are you okay, miss?" asked a faint, shaking voice as a hand was placed on her shoulder.

With a terrified yelp, she whirled around to face a surprised looking older man. He took a step back from her. His lanky body tensed, as if he planned to turn and bolt at any second.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she gushed, feeling embarrassed. "I'm just a little nervous." Smiling in the friendliest way she could, she introduced herself. "Hi, I'm Destiny Chalmers. I called earlier about buying the house." She held out her hand for him to shake.

The man eyed her suspiciously, and then a smile slowly crept across his pale face and he shook her hand. "I'm Richard O' Dell, caretaker and owner of Gracey Manor." Although it was only the middle of October, he wore a wool scarf around his neck and an over-sized coat. His black, fingerless gloves looked like a fashion accessory straight out of a Dickens novel. Thick, gray tufts of hair jutted out from underneath his brown cap and a flashlight stuck out of his jeans pocket. An old, emaciated hound dog cringed by his side. Destiny could count each of the poor creature's ribs.

She cleared her throat to break the awkward silence that had started to emerge. "So, you're actually willing to sell the mansion, huh?"

Richard blinked several times as if coming out of a daze. "Oh, more than willing, ma'am," he muttered with a nervous glance back at the mansion. He cleared his throat. With surprising gusto, he said, "I take it you'd like the grand tour."

"Yes, please, lead on," she answered brightly.

After he turned around, she locked her car again and followed behind the caretaker and his dog.


	5. The Grand Tour

Chapter Four

Richard led Destiny up the long, brick driveway to the front porch of Gracey Manor. Up close, the mansion was more massive and grand than she could have ever imagined. The Dutch- Gothic style house was colored a faded reddish-brown and built entirely from bricks and stone. It towered above them a foreboding three stories. On the right side of the mansion was a glass dome structure that Destiny could only guess to be a small greenhouse. Coincidentally, the stone turrets atop the mansion resembled chess pieces. The only game piece she could not find was the knight, but all of the others in some shape or form, were represented.

On either side of the mansion was a small cemetery, which, oddly enough, did not catch Destiny by surprise; she had been expecting it. On the left side on a small incline, surrounded by dead trees and brown bushes, were scattered gravestones. On the right was a tiny pet cemetery that was full of headstones that bore a resemblance to the dearly departed critters that lay underneath. Next to the pet cemetery were three tombs, all of which had rows of names inscribed into the cement structures. Destiny suspected that the bodies had been placed into them much like papers in a filing cabinet; in rows on top of each other and each row could, if it were not cemented in, be pulled out much like how one would pull out a drawer.

"Do graveyards bother you, miss?" asked Richard as he searched his coat pockets for his keys. His dog growled softly and tugged on the mat in front of the mansion's door, revealing them to be underneath. Richard looked momentarily perplexed, and then he shrugged and picked up the keys. He smiled and patted the hound's head. "Think L. L.'s playing tricks on us again, eh, old girl?"

Feeling confused, Destiny decided not to question the old man's odd statement. Instead, she said, "No, cemeteries don't bother me at all. I've been visiting them since I was a kid. I find them to be kind of peaceful really." She sighed. "I've been here before, actually. My grandmother brought me here when I was little. I remember she placed a rose on one of the graves." She turned to look at the small group of headstones strewn on the hill. She gasped when she noticed the rose placed on top of the very same gravestone that her grandmother had visited over twenty-three years ago. "No way," she whispered in disbelief. As if in a daze, she slowly walked to the grave.

_There is no possible way that it could be the same rose. _She gently picked up the flower, fearing that it would crumble apart at her touch. _It's… plastic. _She frowned. Some romantic part of her had hoped that it had remained intact and beautiful after all those years. _Either grandma really wanted it to stay here forever or she was too cheap to get a real one. _She sighed again and placed it back onto the top of the headstone. Suddenly, realized she had no idea whose grave it was and peered at the inscribed name and began to read it out loud. "Master Gracey--"

"Don't!" Richard cried, his weak voice filled with terror.

Destiny turned to look at him, shocked by his unexpected outburst. "What's wrong?"

Richard wrung his hands nervously. "You never know what could happen," he muttered timidly.

Destiny shook her head and turned back to the gravestone. _He seriously needs to switch to decaf. _She read the epitaph to herself: "'Master Gracey laid to rest. No mourning please at his request. Farewell.'" She looked back at Richard. "So, did, uh, M. G. own the mansion?"

Richard unlocked the front door. "He's the most well known and respected of its past owners. _It _has had many over the years," he added mysteriously. He opened the door and held it for her. "Would you like to see the inside, Miss Chalmers?"

"Sure." _If you promise not to chop me into little pieces you creepy, freaky man,_ she silently added. She followed him inside, into the mansion's foyer. The impressively large room had a small table in the center of it. On one side of the table was a dust coated, over stuffed loveseat, and across from that was a plush recliner. Firewood that had long ago smoldered lay in a rotting heap in the grand fireplace. A couple of cobweb-covered urns were set atop the hearth mantel. Hanging on the wall just above the urns was a painting. It was a portrait of a man, but it had too many layers of grime on it to distinguish him. An over-hanging chandelier that, like everything else in the room, had a healthy collection of filth and cobwebs dimly lighted the foyer. The maroon carpet was in need of a good vacuuming and a deep steam cleaning. A dusty, earthy scent filled the air. Destiny thought that the smell was comforting; it reminded her of her grandmother's home.

"Uh, I apologize for the mess, miss. No one's really cleaned for a while," muttered Richard absentmindedly as he cast a nervous glance around the room. His poor dog broke out into fits of sneezes.

"How long has it been since someone lived here?" asked Destiny. She stared up at the painting, trying to make out the image.

"Not very," Richard answered. "No one stays for more than a few days or so. But, those people aren't really looking for a home. They're usually hiding or searching for antiques that they can steal and sell. You wouldn't believe how many wannabe thieves try to run out of here with a painting." A flicker of a smile touched his lips. "Sooner or later, something spooks them out."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, uh, nothing. Really," he quickly said. "You know, old houses make strange noises, and the graveyard frightens off the superstitious. This place scares me, too, to tell you the truth. That's why I'm trying to sell it." He sighed. "It's just that, I'm not content with just _anybody _buying it. I've got respect for the Manor, and I couldn't live with myself if the person I sold it to bulldozed it or demolished it. Someone might construct a mini-mall over the graves or-or turn it into some stupid tourist attraction!" He realized how emotional he was and immediately quieted. "At the same time, I want to be rid of it so badly, I'm willing to settle for any price. I just need enough money to get food and a place to stay that's far, far away from here. I've been trying to sell it for God knows how many years, and no matter how much I lower the cost, no one seems to want to buy it. What I'm asking for it is hardly even a fraction of what it's worth. According to a real estate agent I talked to, people usually pay big bucks for an old house like this." He looked down at his shoes.

Destiny felt so sorry for him, she almost bought the mansion right then and there. She knew how desperate he was, she wanted that badly to get out of her apartment. But she still knew that she had to be smart about the whole process.

"So," she asked, "does this place have any kind of pest control problem? Like roaches?"

"Not really. Some spiders can be found in the hallway across from the library."

"Library?" asked Destiny, curious. Carefully, she put down a dusty, empty vase she had been peering into.

Richard quickly noticed her sudden interest. "Yeah, there's a library, a conservatory, a ballroom, a dining room, a whole bunch of guest bedrooms, a lounge, a mini-bar, and a game room, complete with a pool table," he added breathlessly. With a grin, he said, "Why don't we take the grand tour?"

"I'd love to." Looking down at the hound, Destiny said to the animal, "After you." The dog timidly plodded on behind her master, and Destiny followed her. "It's a bit dark in here," she commented as they walked down a hallway. Portraits lined the walls on either side of them. Richard glared at each and every one, as if daring them to do something.

"It's just the way the house is, miss. No matter how many lights you turn on, it seems to stay encased in shadows."

"Ah, lovely, Steven King's dream home. Say, blood doesn't drip down the walls, does it?" she quipped.

Richard laughed, nervously. "Don't give them ideas," the caretaker whispered to himself.

"What was that?"

"Nothing! Well," he stopped, causing his dog to crash into his legs, "this is the music room. If you pass through those two doors to our left, you'll find the library." The music room was small and sparse. In front of a large window was an ancient piano. Sheets of music were scattered on the floor. Curiously, and a bit apprehensively, he watched as she sat on the piano stool. "Do you play, Ms. Chalmers?"

"Just two songs: 'Hot Cross Buns' and 'Three Blind Mice'." Her chuckle at her little joke soon faded as he just gave her a blank stare. "You see they're the same songs, just different words."

"Oh, heh. Maybe we should move on."

"Just a second." Lightly, she held one finger over a key to tap it. She was answered with a shrill _ting_. "Odd."

"You see," explained Richard, letting his own sense of humor slip out, "that's the amazing thing about pianos. You touch those little white and black things and sound comes out."

Her brow furrowed, she spun around on the stool to face him. "I didn't touch it."

His eyes widening for a moment, he quickly sputtered, "It's an old player piano. It goes off occasionally."

Scowling, she stood up. "I get it."

"You do?" he quavered.

"You've got a mouse problem, don't you? And you don't want me to know!" She put her hands on her hips.

Richard relaxed, exhaling. "Just a couple. Not a problem. I would have mentioned it if it was." Regaining his composure, he continued, "What room do you want to see next?"

Destiny thought it over for a moment. "The library," she finally answered.

"Good choice." He held the door open for her and watched as she walked through. Such a shame such a pretty young lady would be stuck in such a dreary place with such disturbing disturbances…Oh well.

The library was immense. Bookshelves crammed with volumes lined the walls. Some shelves had a little nook for a scowling bust. A small ladder leaned against a shelf. A few chairs were scattered in the room.

Immediately, she walked over to the bookshelf. The dust-covered tomes were fascinating. Picking one up, she flipped to the first page. "This is a first edition! From 1880! Wow!"

A small gasp escaped Richard and he sprang up and jumped in front of a bust. If Destiny had turned around a second earlier, she would have seen it trying to read over her shoulder. Looking around frantically, he silently begged for a quiet evening.

Destiny put the book back onto the shelf. "Anything else?"

"There's the ballroom…"

"Lead the way!"

Richard made sure she was the last to leave. He also made sure to close the door before the book floated off of the shelf and slipped into its proper place.

The rest of the tour went by uneventfully. Destiny was amazed with every room, while Richard seemed oddly out of breath from jumping in front of random statues and paintings. One room was oddly boarded up. When Destiny questioned Richard about it, he just told her it was like that before he took over as caretaker and left it at that. It was not long after that they found themselves once again in the foyer. There were just a few last minute things Destiny wanted to ask about.

"This place is sturdy, right?" She knocked on a wall with her knuckle. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but it sounded hollow. "I mean, there's no huge leaks or weather damage or weak--"

"No, nope, this place is solid as a rock," Richard quickly piped up. "Nothing wrong with it at all!"

Destiny cast a suspicious eye over the ceiling and walls. It looked sturdy enough. There were no perceivable cracks anywhere. She hadn't noticed any leaks or creaking floorboards or any weak spots whatsoever. "And just for twenty thousand-"

"Fifteen!" Richard quickly cried out.

"Oh, I couldn't buy it for--"

"Eleven hundred and sixty!"

"Look, you don't need to haggle, Mr. 'O Dell! I'll buy the house."

"You will?"

"Yes."

He grinned. "Oh, thank you!" he cried out joyously. "Thank you! Thank you so much!" He grabbed Destiny's hand and shook it enthusiastically. "And you promise you're going to take care of the old place, right?"

"Absolutely."

"Wonderful! Let me get the paperwork and we'll have this all settled."

Destiny nodded. "Great, I'll have my checkbook ready." She watched him run out of the house. _Did I just make a huge mistake?_


	6. A Visit From Koji

Chapter Five

Moving into her new home had been quite easy for Destiny. Her apartment had been furnished so she couldn't take any of the furniture with her. The only things she needed to bring were her personal belongings, which included her clothes, books, notes, files, her meager assortment of dishes, and other various knick-knacks she had collected over the years. She rented a small U-Drag truck and was able to haul everything to the mansion in one trip. She even unloaded everything without the assistance of movers. It had been two days and she still had not heard anything from Frees Construction Company about her possible employment. (However, within an hour of plugging in her phone, she had received calls from five telemarketers.)

The old Dutch-Gothic mansion was Destiny's dream home. It was hardly an hour's drive away from the city, but it was far from the noise and crime. All of the furnishings of the past owners were left in the house; she basically had everything she needed, with the exception of a microwave, a television set, and a computer. Some of the electrical outlets were too old for modern appliances, but she could easily fix those. Properly cleaning the house would take weeks, or in Destiny's case, months. She had no problem letting the dust bunnies evolve into dust rhinos.

The only room she was really concerned about cleaning was the master bathroom, which was connected to her new bedroom. The one thing that grossed Destiny out more than cockroaches was a filthy restroom, and this one looked like it hadn't been cleaned in almost a hundred years. What had once been a massive, white bathtub was now a gigantic, gray, slime and mold covered, gunk breeding ground. She didn't even want to _imagine _what the toilet was like!

She had been diligently scrubbing the tub when she heard knocks on the front door that were to the tune of "Shave and a Haircut (Two Bits)".

"Oh not now," she groaned. "I'm _so_ not in the mood for company!" She knew she smelled like anti-bacterial industrial strength cleaners, and she had grime all over her frumpy faded shirt and her baggy gray sweatpants. Her long, brown hair had been put into a loose bun and tendrils of hair had escaped and were sticking out every which way. She silently prayed that whomever was at the door would just go away if she waited long enough.

A brass doorknocker rendition of "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" echoed throughout the front hall. She huffed, causing a stray wisp of hair to float up over her eyes. "All right!" she called out. "I'll be there in a minute!" She threw down the cleaning sponge she had been using and stomped to the front door. She flung it open halfway through her visitor's impromptu performance of "It's a Small World"

The young man standing on the other side of her door looked momentarily disappointed that his musical interlude had been interrupted. Then he quickly brightened. "Hi, I--"

"Look," said Destiny, "I don't want salvation, I don't want to buy anything, I'm not interested in any petitions, and I give donations to Give Kids the World twice a year." She started to shut the door.

"Wait!" he cried, putting his foot in the doorway. "Let me explain!"

She frowned and opened the door. "You have one minute." She looked the young man up and down somewhat critically. He was only as tall as she was, which meant he could not have been more than five foot six, at the most. Destiny guessed he was Japanese by his physical features, although he had an American accent that had a tiny southern touch. He was in his early twenties, but his somewhat round face and his boyish grin made him look even younger. He wore a brown fedora hat and a tan trench coat that was a little too big on him, blue jeans, and a black shirt with 'The Truth Is Out There' written in white.

He appeared to be giving her a similar once-over before he spoke again. "Hi, ma'am."

"_Ooh, I hate it when people call me ma'am!" _Destiny thought bitterly. "_Especially when it's younger people!"_

"I'm Koji Wendell, Paranormal Investigator with the Parker Institute for Supernatural Research." He took out a leather, tattered wallet, and briefly flipped it open to flash a badge-like object at her. "Can I come in?" he asked. Before she could answer, he walked into the house. He looked around the foyer and let out a low whistle. "Geeze, I'd heard someone was living here, but I didn't believe it." He took off his coat and hat. "Mind if I hang these up?" he asked as he put his coat and hat on an old hat stand. His short black hair was spiked up slightly, giving Destiny the impression he rarely combed it.

Destiny's jaw dropped at the pure rudeness of this so-called investigator. She put her hands on her hips. "Excuse me? I don't recall letting you in, Mr. Wendell."

He ignored her statement as he took in his surroundings. He pulled a small notepad and a pen out of his pocket and began jotting down notes. "I didn't catch your name."

"I didn't throw it at you," she muttered icily.

He looked up from his notes at her, and waited for her to tell him.

After a huff, she said, "Destiny Chalmers. Where did you say you were from again?"

"The Parker Institute for Supernatural Research," he said slowly.

"I've never heard of it," she said skeptically.

"Not many people have."

"Let me see that badge."

He pulled out his wallet reluctantly, and then quickly flashed the badge.

"Again," she said sternly. "And maybe for a little longer than a second, please."

He sighed and held up his wallet.

"Is that… plastic?" she asked as she tapped the badge.

"Yeah," he muttered sadly, clearly ashamed. "We're a little low on funds right now."

"It's bright green."

"It glows in the dark." He looked forlornly at his badge. "They're a little ugly, but they're official." He tucked his wallet back into his pocket.

"Look, I'm sorry," said Destiny, "but I'm really busy right now. So, do you think you could come by later, maybe?" She opened the front door.

"But-but this is the first time I've been in the house!" he cried as she ushered him towards the door. "I've been studying Gracey Manor for two weeks now, and this is the only time I've actually gotten inside!"

"What do you mean, 'studying'?" asked Destiny, curious.

"I'm trying to determine if paranormal activity exists here. Have you seen anything?" His pen was poised above his notepad, ready to write.

Destiny debated silently about telling him about the three ghosts that had caught a ride in her car, but decided against it. "Um, no, nope, haven't seen anything unusual."

He grabbed his coat and hat off of the hat stand and put them back on. "Well, if you see something, let me know." He dug into a coat pocket and pulled out a crease lined, fingerprint-smudged, faded business card and handed it to her.

She tucked in into her pocket. "Thanks."

He opened the door and started to walk out, then stopped. "Um, could you hang onto that card? It's my only one, so I'll need it back next time I see you."

"Okay," said Destiny quickly, hoping he would finally leave.

He stepped outside, and then he turned back around, much to Destiny's dismay. "Oh, and if you find a hidden room with a corpse hanging in it, call me right away." He finally left, closing the door behind him.

She stared at the door for a few seconds. "'Room with a… corpse hanging in it'?" She scoffed. "Whatever. X-Files geek." She shook her head and walked back to the bathroom to finish cleaning.

She failed to notice the portrait hanging above the foyer fireplace. Had she given the painting a departing glance, she would have seen the layer of dust being brushed away, as if by an invisible hand. The bright blue eyes of the man in the painting watched her as she retreated.

When she was out of hearing range, a deep, velvety voice whispered, "Well, things are definitely going to be quite a bit different around here." The bodiless voice chuckled. "Everyone is going to be in for a huge surprise." Little did he know someone else was well aware of Destiny's presence.


	7. Dustin T Dust

Chapter Six

_1927…_

"I called a taxi to take us to the orphanage." Lily shivered and tucked her baby's blanket tighter around her newborn. The rain was pouring down in thick sheets. Lily Gracey and Amelia Audley stood shivering on the front porch of Gracey Manor. The dampness in the late October night air chilled the two women down to their bones.

"But Lily!" Amelia pleaded. "Poor Georgie will be crushed! What will you tell him?" She twisted a stray orange hair around her finger, worriedly. She couldn't bear the thought of how her nephew would handle this.

Lily Gracey hugged the day old infant close. Tears filled her hazel eyes and streamed down her flushed cheeks. "I can't stand the thought of her being in the same house as Leota. You've heard the threats she's made. If--"

"Shh!" hissed Amelia. "We can't chance her hearing us. So, what are we going to tell George? He was looking forward to coming home to his new child. He loves her every bit as much as you do. And- and if this whole thing with Dobbins hadn't come up--"

"I know he would have been here." Lily's shoulders trembled with sobs. Amelia hugged her tightly.

" One day, when we finally leave this place, we'll find her," whispered Amelia. "We'll get out of this house, you, me, and George, and we'll get a quaint home out in the countryside. And we'll leave 'you-know-who' far behind." She smiled, despite her tears.

A taxi slowed to a stop in front of them.

"I have to go now, Amelia," said Lily with a sob. "Do you want to come with us?"

Amelia shook her head. "No, dearie, I'll just stay here. George will be coming back tomorrow, so I'll start cleaning the house and-" She bit her lip as she started crying.

Lily tried to give her a reassuring hug. Then, without a word, she got into the waiting cab…

_

* * *

__2003…_

Dustin could not, for the afterlife of him, remember his real full name. Inscribed on the mausoleum he had been laid to rest in was "Dustin T. Dust". Many others had received the same fate as him. They, too, had been buried under various silly pseudonyms and had since forgotten what their real names were. He had some vague memory of being called Dustin T… _something_ but it had long ago eluded him. Dustin had died on Halloween, just three months shy of his thirty-first birthday. The ghost rarely left the cemetery in Gracey Manor's backyard. Most would describe him as mild-mannered and an introvert. Only at the incessant insistence of his two younger siblings would he join the ghostly parties that took place almost nightly. Dustin would rather go on long walks through the woods than take part in the dances and games.

He was tall and, due to a number of skipped meals in his life, thin. Rectangular spectacles sat on the bridge of his long nose. Although his death had taken place in nineteen twenty-seven, he looked like an English gentleman straight out of the late eighteen hundreds. That was the problem with dying at a Halloween party; one was basically stuck in the same outfit for the rest of one's afterlife. He wore a long-sleeved white shirt and a vest, with a necktie tucked underneath it. His shoes and pants were a little more modern, granted they were certainly out of style when he was alive. Thick bangs stuck out from under his top hat. A long, duster coat was his favorite part of the outfit. He didn't feel too bad about being buried in it. It certainly looked far more dashing than any suit he had ever owned.

Although he was transparent and had a blue glow to his whole being, like many of the other ghosts, there were still faint hints of his former coloring. For example, his eyes were still dark green, and his hair had highlights of the dark blond it had once been.

Dustin leaned against a hearse, an antique black carriage nestled in Gracey Manor's backyard cemetery. The back doors were open and a casket had partially spilled out onto the ground. The reins of the horse were still attached and floated in the air, but no horse could be seen. Dustin watched the mansion curiously. The full moon was hidden behind dark clouds and hardly a star shone in the night sky, causing the lights on in the mansion to look much brighter. He could see the shadow of a figure darting about in one of the bedrooms. No one had lived in the Manor for at least five years, and, thanks to certain spooks, no one remained in it for more than two days.

"Hmm." He reached behind him and patted the invisible horse. "What do you make of it, Rolly?"

The ghost horse whinnied and snorted.

"My thoughts exactly," said Dustin, as if he had understood the dead animal.

"Oi," groaned a voice as the lid from the coffin clattered to the ground. "Are you talking to the bloody 'orse again?"

"Well he certainly offers a more stimulating conversation than you do," Dustin retorted with a smirk.

He turned to look at his brother Asher, a young man with dark features who was only two years younger than he. Asher, (buried as Asher T. Ashes), had lead a more comfortable life than his brother. His suit was not as worn and faded as Dustin's outfit. Whereas Dustin was tall and thin, Asher's build was stocky and he was several inches shorter. The only striking similarity between the brothers was a pair of closely set, large, top front teeth.

His derby had fallen down over his eyes and he pushed it up, groggily looking at his older brother. "Bloody 'ell, can't a man get any sleep around here?" His Cockney accent was a good deal thicker than Dustin's and he had a terrible habit of chopping off most of the H's when he spoke.

"You slept all day," said Dustin. "Your snores were scaring the ghouls."

Asher blinked several times as if coming out of a stupor. "You don't say?" he mused, as if it was some kind of deep statement. He reached beside him and grabbed a teacup off of a nearby gravestone. He sniffed its contents and curled his lip. Then he reached into his jacket and pulled out a small flask, popped off the lid, and poured some of the well-aged liquor into the teacup. He took a sip with a contented sigh and leaned back into the coffin. Dustin did not have the heart to tell Asher that he could not really drink and that it was only an overactive imagination that told him differently. He suspected that Asher secretly knew this, too, and did not want to spoil his delusion.

"Why do you care so much about that stupid old house anyway, Dust?" he asked. "It's not like you ever go inside."

"Oh, just curious," said Dustin. "It might be fun to have a mortal around." He smiled shyly. "Someone who could give us updates on the news, tell us what the latest trends are, or maybe they could even," his eyes brightened and his voice grew more excited, "find a way to help us-"

"Cross over," groaned Asher as he rolled his eyes. "It's not going to 'appen. Face it, we're stuck 'ere for a bloomin' eternity. And if George 'as his way, which 'e usually does, whoever's in that house is going to end up packin' their bags pretty soon." He took a long swig of his tea.

Dustin sighed and stuck his hands in his pockets. "I suppose you're right. Say, where's-"

A high-pitched _ding-ding _of a tin bell interrupted him. He peered around the hearse and spotted an old-fashioned bicycle racing up a small incline towards the carriage. Dustin's younger sister Bea, dubbed Bea Witch, was sitting on the handlebars, holding her bonnet down with one hand and gripping a handle with the other. Through her transparent form, Dustin could see a young, sandy haired, male ghost, no more than twenty-five, trying his best to steer the bike. Both were giggling and laughing as they careened past the tombstones and through very annoyed spirits. The bicycle came to an abrupt halt beside Asher's casket, spraying a large wave of dirt into it.

"Cor!" Asher cried as he tossed out bits of gravel. "Watch where you're steerin' that bloody contraption! Have you no respect for the dead?" He peered into his cup. "And you got pebbles in my tea!"

Bea gracefully slid off of the handlebars. "Thanks for the ride, Manny." She gave him a quick kiss on his cheek.

"Anytime, Bea." With a final wave to the sibling trio, Manny Festation turned his bike around and pedalled away.

Bea turned to her brothers. "He's so sweet," she said brightly with a smile. She smoothed down her rumpled dress. She was a young, thin woman, hardly past twenty-four. Her large, sea green eyes twinkled mischievously. "Have you heard the news?" she asked eagerly.

"No, Bea," said Asher in a bored, droning tone. "We 'aven't 'eard the news. But, please, tell us, or I will surely burst from suspense."

She smacked the back of his head, causing him to drop his cup. "Ow! Bloody 'ell, woman!"

Bea ignored him. "I heard someone moved into the mansion!" She clasped her hands together with glee and bobbed from one foot to the other with a little squeal of delight.

"I noticed the lights," said Dustin. "But it's probably just another squatter or treasure hunter."

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no!" she said quickly. "She's going to stay for a long time. I have a very reliable source on this!"

"And who would that source be this time?" Dustin said with a smile. He was all too familiar with Bea's gossip chain.

After taking a deep breath, Bea said: "I heard it from Claire Voyance, who heard it from Little Leota, who heard it from Amelia, who heard it from Mr. Baker, who heard it from Mr. Sewell, who heard it from his poker buddy, Phineas. And Phineas was in the car when she drove up." She emphasized her point with a short nod. "But no one knows anything about her." After a second's reflections, she quickly added, "Oh, and that paranormal investigator was snooping around here again."

"She'll be gone in less than a week," Asher grumbled as he filled his teacup. "They never stay."

"Try to be a little more optimistic!" cried Bea.

"It's hard to be optimistic when you've been dead for seventy-six bloomin' years! Why don't you try to be a little more realistic?" Asher shouted back.

Dustin groaned. "Oh, don't start that up again."

"Stay out of it!" Asher yelled at Dustin.

"You can't yell at him like that!" shouted Bea. "You washed up drunk!"

"Wench!"

Dustin sighed heavily. There was no use in trying to break up their fight. With departing glances at his squabbling siblings, he silently slunk away.

* * *

Destiny was busy putting her clothes into the large, oak dresser in the master bedroom, or rather, _her_ new bedroom. On her dresser was her old CD player, with Oingo Boingo's "Dead Man's Party" blaring. Within the privacy of her room, she was dancing and singing right along with the band. It was not something she was putting much thought or talent into.

She stuffed another pair of jeans into the dresser drawer and blindly reached behind her and fumbled in her suitcase for more clothes. It was at that moment that Dustin glided through the bedroom wall.

"I definitely took a wrong turn somewhere," he muttered. Having only actually been in the mansion a few times, he had no idea what the layout of the house was. He had been trying to find his friend, Amelia, who would undoubtedly be in the ballroom. Somewhere along the way, he had gotten lost. He looked up and took in his surroundings. "Oh no," he whimpered. The woman standing in front of the dresser had her back to him, and thanks, to the music, had not heard him. He clamped his mouth shut and became completely invisible. He was trying to make himself back out of the room, but he could not takes his eyes off of the woman, and the song's beat was starting to get to him. He was nodding his head to the music and even humming along with it as he watched her dance. He laughed to himself, not because he thought she looked stupid, but because he was happy to see someone just being a goof for once. She reached back into her suitcase again and pulled out some clothes, and accidentally dropped one of her bras on the floor. Without thinking, Dustin said, "I'll get that for you." He reached down and picked it up. The song stopped and Destiny turned around to grab the bra, only to discover it floating.

Her jaw dropped and she mouthed something akin to words. She watched as a hand slowly appeared, followed by an arm, then a shoulder, and finally the rest of the body until the form of a man materialized. He shot a panicked look at Destiny and then at his hand and it slowly dawned on him what he had grabbed. He was a bit too old fashioned to handle something like this. "Gah! Um, madam, I'm, uh--"

"What are you doing?" she managed to sputter.

He thrust his arm behind his transparent back in a failed attempt to hide the brassier. "I uh um I--" he stammered.

"Dustin!" he heard Bea call from somewhere out in the hallway.

He shot a final apologetic look at Destiny and vanished, dropping the bra on the floor.

She stared at the place where he had been and then pulled Koji's business card out of her pocket. "That's it, first thing tomorrow morning, I'm giving him a call."


	8. When Destiny Met George

Chapter Seven

After a fitful night of tossing and turning, and a good bout of paranoia, Destiny awoke early the next morning and quickly got dressed. She went to the kitchen and checked on her meager rations, all of which she had brought with her from her apartment. She scowled. It would have to be take-out until she could go grocery shopping. The last trip to the store she had taken was mainly for getting roach poison. Her unemployment check hardly paid for her necessities. She had a feeling that somehow, someway, Craig was stalling any kind of response from Frees Construction Company. It was taking a lot of self-restraint not to schedule an appointment with Minkoff Electric, a company two counties over, if she did not get a call within two days.

_Or better yet, I'll just give them a call myself, right after I call ol' what's-his-face, Kudos. _She took Koji's wrinkled and faded business card and her cell phone out of her pocket, and dialed his number. Drumming her fingers on the countertop, she waited for his phone to ring eight times and for the beep of the answering machine. "Hey, Koji, it's Destiny, you know, at the old Gracey place. Anyway, you're not going to believe this, well, maybe _you _would, but I've seen a few… ghosts." She felt silly just saying it! She finished the message by leaving her number and then hung up. Before she could call Frees Construction Co., she felt something tug on her phone.

"Hey, what the--"

The invisible force gave the phone another sharp yank, dragging her out of the kitchen and into the hallway. She dug her heels into the carpet, but her socks did not allow her the resistance she needed, and she only ended up being drug into the foyer.

"Let go!"

"You're not scared?" asked a deep, rich voice from somewhere in front of her.

"Of what, Casper: The Phone Snatching Ghost?"

"This is a phone?" He, for the voice was clearly male, still had not let go. "Can I see it?"

"No! Give it!" She pulled back as hard as she could.

"Why are you so stubborn?" he grunted, still tugging on the phone. "I just want to have a look at it."

She gave one final tug. The ghost let go, and she went flying back into the wall. She groaned and then rubbed the back of her sore head. The phone had been dropped and she watched as the invisible entity picked it up and turned it over, examining it.

Destiny's nostrils flared as she huffed. She marched forward, to the general area of where she thought the spirit was. In the most determined, stern voice she could muster, she cried, "Popping up and scaring me is one thing, but I will not, repeat, _will not_, tolerate abuse in my own home! I don't care if you're Abraham Lincoln, J. F. K., or… or…Caesar! You will not push me around! This is my house now, too, and I am not leaving!" She stomped her foot, which did not have much of an effect because of her socks. Her face flushed. She had never had an outburst like that before. "Um… okay?"

A small gasp escaped her lips as the ghost materialized before her. The spirit was a man of average height and had a slender build. He had a thin face that was not unlike hers. His dark brown hair was neatly combed to one side and his tuxedo appeared pressed and ironed. The features that stood out most were his eyes, which were a shocking bright blue. His exact age was hard to determine, but Destiny guessed him to be in his early forties or late thirties. He looked at her curiously and then cocked an eyebrow, his lips curling into a good natured, yet slightly smug smile. He looked back down at the phone again, and then tossed it to her. After a quick fumble, she grabbed it and tucked it into her pocket.

"That's a neat little gadget," he said awkwardly, still put off from her rant. "My apologies, madam, I meant no harm."

"Who are you?" she finally asked.

He studied her for a moment before replying. "George Gracey," he said with dramatic flair and a bow, "Master of this possessed manor. And who, may I humbly ask, are you?"

"Destiny Chalmers, mistress of, well, nothing at the moment. You've really put a lot of thought into your little introduction, haven't you?"

"I've got a lot of time on my hands." He was still peering at her curiously, and it was getting her unnerved. "So, you're not frightened at all?" He vanished and reappeared behind her. He was floating at about head level to her, on his back, with his hands behind his head, kicking his feet slightly as if he were swimming. He circled around her.

"No, not really." She craned her neck around to keep an eye on him. "Should I be?"

He stopped in front of her, still floating on his back. "Well, that depends," he said as he examined the fingernails of his right hand. He buffed them on his tuxedo jacket. "What are your intentions?"

"My intentions?" She thought about it for a moment, and then shrugged. "I don't plan to demolish the mansion or steal anything, if that's what you mean."

"You actually want to live here?" he asked, surprised. He righted himself and stood beside her.

"Yeah, do you have a problem with that?"

He chuckled. "Not at all." He smiled brightly. "This place could certainly use some life around here. Welcome to Gracey Manor, Miss Chalmers."

Just then someone knocked on the door. Destiny quickly recognized it as the tune of the "Wedding March". "Must be Koji," Destiny said, with a glance at the door. "Why don't you wait right here and--" By the time she had looked back, George had vanished. She sighed and answered the door just as Koji began a round of "Yankee Doodle Dandy".

"Mornin', Ms. Chalmers," said Koji as he walked in. He was wearing his fedora and trench coat and jeans, but his sci-fi, geek shirt today said, "I see dead people…and you don't! Nyah-nyah!" Hanging on his left shoulder was an old satchel, which he laid down on the floor. Destiny closed the door behind him as he hung up his hat and coat. "I got your message and rushed over as soon as I could."

"Yeah, I--"

"Hey, what's that?" Koji cried, pointing at the wall. Destiny followed his gaze. A portion of it had slid open, revealing a sliver of space. He grabbed his bag and ran to the hidden entrance. "How'd you find this?"

Destiny walked over to the sliding panel. "Huh," she said thoughtfully. "I must have moved it when I hit the wall. I didn't even notice."

With a little effort, the two of them pulled the door open completely, revealing an octagonal room. Koji let out a low whistle as they walked inside. It was dark, but not so much so that they could not make out the larger details. Four faded paintings hung on the walls, which had striped, peeling wallpaper. On either side of the pictures was a gargoyle sconce, which peered down at them with malevolent glee and clutched in its clawed hands cobweb covered candles.

"Destiny, do you know where we are?" asked Koji, his dark eyes wide with amazement. Before she could answer, he said, "We're in the portrait gallery! I've heard so many stories about this place! This room's been hidden for years! No one's been able to find it since Master Gracey disappeared back in 1943. They say he killed himself here and they've never been able to find the body."

With a mix of pure confusion and disbelief, she replied, "What?"

Before Koji could answer her, the panel slammed shut, sealing them in and surrounding them in complete darkness. Then, one by one, each of the candles lit, casting flickering shadows about the room.

"Nice touch," muttered Destiny. "George?"

"How'd you know?" boomed George's voice.

"George Gracey?" asked Koji, as if George was a celebrity he had waited his whole life to meet.

"I have a fan," George gushed, with just a tiny hint of sarcasm. Destiny rolled her eyes. _Drama queen, _she thought.

"I see you've wandered into the gallery," George said in a hissing whisper. His velvety voice drifted between them and throughout the room, as if the invisible spook was strolling about as he spoke. Koji searched though his satchel and pulled out a stethoscope. He put the earpieces in and held the other end above his head, as if that would help him hear George better. "As you can see," George continued in his breathy, hushed tone, "this room has no windows and no doors." Koji could feel him grab the end of the stethoscope and lift it up. " Which offers this challenge: To find a way out. Of course," George whispered as softly as he could, "there's always my way…" The flames of the candles blew out and they were once again plunged into pitch-blackness. George let out a loud, booming laugh, causing Koji to scream in pain.

He tore off the stethoscope and threw it to the floor. "God, my ears! What'd you do that for!"

"For effect," George said simply. "Oh, and you may want to look up…"

Both mortals turned their eyes heavenward to see a skeleton swinging gently, dangling from a noose that was tied around the rafters of the gallery's unfinished ceiling.

Destiny could feel her stomach lurch as a wave of intense nausea washed over her. "I think I'm going to be sick." With a loud creak, the panel slid open again and Koji and Destiny dashed out. It slammed behind them. "That man has a really morbid sense of humor."

Koji seemed to ignore her as he grabbed a pen and a notepad out of his bag. "That was so awesome!" He scribbled down notes as quickly as he could.

"Yeah," muttered Destiny, "but what do we do about it?"

"I tell the Institute, that's what I do." He sighed wistfully. "I can see it now: "Paranormal Investigator Finds Proof of Gracey Ghosts". It'll be on the front page of the Liberty Square Times."

"What about the dead body in my home?"

"I dunno, that's your problem, not mine. I just look for ghosts, I don't do house cleaning."

"Gee, thanks for your concern," Destiny said sarcastically. She heard muffled, faint music, like a high-pitched version of "Monster Mash". "Is that your phone?" she asked.

Koji tucked his notes away and walked over to the coat/hat stand, reached into the pocket of his trench coat and pulled out his cell phone. "Koji Wendell, paranormal investiga--" He paused. "But I don't usually deal with-- You know I'm above that stuff! Fine, I'll be there." He sighed and put on his coat. "I've got to go. There's a poltergeist terrorizing a kindergarten class. My talents are so wasted. Man, I've got to work with the two things I hate most: poltergeists and little kids." He reached for his hat, but it was gone. "Huh, must have left it at home. I could have sworn I brought it." He shrugged. "Give me a call if anything else happens, Miss Chalmers," he said as he walked out the door.

"Sure thing." After she shut the door, she added, "Jerk." As she looked into the hallway, she could see Koji's hat bobbing about three feet in the air. "Hey!" she called out. The hat stopped and turned around as a tiny, pale girl with long, brown hair appeared.

The little girl grinned and her eyes, one a brilliant blue and the other a bright, poisonous green, sparkled mischievously.

"That's not yours, you know," Destiny said weakly. For some reason, the little girl gave her the creeps.

The child shrugged. "I know," she said and laughed. Becoming invisible again, she skipped down the hallway, still wearing Koji's hat.

Destiny watched the floating fedora until it disappeared around a corner. "All of you have serious issues!" the mortal cried out, not caring if the ghosts heard her.

* * *

A/N: Most of George's spiel in the gallery comes from the ride. 


	9. Ballroom Blitz

Chapter Eight

_1939…_

It had been decades since the ballroom had seen so much activity. Couples waltzed across the floor as the organ was played, while other guests chatted and exchanged gossip. In drunken revelry, a man had managed to leap from the balcony and onto the large chandelier. Master Gracey wondered how exactly the man planned to get down, but pushed the thought aside for a moment. They would cross that bridge when they came to it.

"Think she might have skimped a bit on the expenses?" asked Madam Leota with a curled lip and a nod of her head toward the organ player. Mr. Baker, a middle-aged gentleman with thick, white hair and a temperamental attitude, was not by any means a terrible musician. It was just that his music was a bit odd and inconsistent. The dancing guests did not care. As long as they had music, they were happy.

"I think Amelia's party is going along rather nicely," said George Gracey, smiling. "And there's actually a reason for it this time," he joked.

"Oh really?" Leota asked in a mocking tone. "Amelia actually has a reason to throw a party?" She took a sip of her punch. "Hell must have frozen over."

The aristocrat chuckled. "Today's her birthday."

"And here I am without so much as a card." Leota sighed dramatically. "Too bad nobody told me." With a faked pout, the Creole gypsy ran a finger around the rim of her glass.

George blinked his azure eyes several times in surprise. "I told you last week."

"Damn. Musta slipped my mind. To think, me, a psychic, and I can't foresee someone's birthday."

"You just don't like her," he accused, frowning.

"Can you blame me?" cried Leota, tearing her green gaze away from her drink. "Have you heard the things that woman has said about me!" With a flail of her hands, she accidentally—at least George thought it was accidentally—drenched a couple who had the misfortune of spinning by at that moment. Leota ignored their indignant cries. "Why, she accused _me_ of practicing black magic and bringing demons into the house! Like I would ever do such a thing."

George looked down as someone tugged on his coat sleeve. He smiled when he realized it was Little Leota. "Something wrong?"

The tiny ten-year-old curtsied and gave a polite nod to her mother. "Master Gracey, I'm so bord. There isn't anyone here who is nearly my age and no one will dance with me." Looking down pitifully, she shuffled one of her feet.

Leota just arched an eyebrow. She was not exactly the motherly type. Her daughter was almost identical to her, except for her eyes. Her left eye was bright green, just like Leota's, but the left was blue. All throughout her life, she had been small and sickly. The name Little Leota was something that had just stuck to the poor girl like tar. Her mother, seeing her as an unwanted "accident", had not bothered to even name her when she was born. "Little Leota" had started out as just a nickname, but nobody could think of anything else to call her.

George furrowed his brow and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Well, we can't have that, can we? A party isn't a party if someone isn't having fun."

"No, sir, it's not," Little Leota readily agreed.

"I might not be as good a dancer as those young rogues over there, but I would be honored to dance with you." George bowed low and then picked up the dainty girl and waltzed into the crowd. She giggled as George whirled with her around the ballroom.

At the long, dining table, Amelia was chatting with her younger sister, Brittany Padgett.

"So," asked Brittany, a thin, gangly woman in her mid-fifties who, at this point, had one too many glasses of wine, "what do you think?"

Amelia set her own glass down. Clapping her hands together joyously, she exclaimed, "I think this is the most wonderful party I've ever had!"

"That's wonderful dear, but I meant what do you think about _them_." Brittany leaned closer towards her sister's ear. "George and Little… Lee Lee or whatever her name is. I'm sure you've heard the rumors." She smiled slyly.

Amelia shifted uncomfortably in her seat and took a sip of her wine. "Well, some things have been said, but…" She looked at George, who was still twirling with Little Leota in his arms. "Until Leota admits who the father is, I guess we'll never know."

"Oh, come off it sis!" Brittany slammed her glass down on the table. "That satanic hussy never takes her eyes off him. Leota's a bad woman, Amelia, mark my words she—" Brittany stopped when she noticed Leota standing beside her, her arms crossed and her eyes blazing with hate.

The plump redhead smiled nervously. "My sister didn't mean a word she said." She shot a glare at Brittany, who, in return, huffed indignantly. "Uh, would you like to join us? Cake is about to be served."

"No thank you. I don't like cake, and I'm not staying where I'm not welcome." Leota turned and started to walk away. She suddenly stopped and turned to face Amelia with a wicked smile on her face. "Oh, and happy birthday." Then she turned back around and walked to her room.

A few minutes later, George walked out of the kitchen and into the ballroom, holding a large birthday cake. The guests stopped dancing and the organ player ceased playing as George began a round of "Happy Birthday to You." Amelia clapped her hands in delight, and the guests cringed as he purposely ended on a long, warbling note. Amelia reached up and pinched his cheek. "Oh Georgie, it looks positively scrumptious."

He placed the cake in front of his aunt and took out a match and lit each candle. "Make a wish."

"Oh, what to wish for?" Amelia closed her eyes and smiled, and then she opened her eyes and took in and started to take a deep breath. Suddenly, the air seemed to catch halfway up her throat. Eyes wide, she squeaked and gagged. Not knowing hat else to do, George slapped her back, thinking she was choking on something. Hands shaking, she clawed at her throat. Then, as soon as it started, it passed.

"That was a bit frightening," Amelia chuckled nervously. "Now, let's get to the cake!"

Then she fell face first into the dessert. Everyone stood in stunned silence, trying to comprehend what had just happened. "Amelia?" George asked. He shook her shoulder. She did not move. He placed two fingers on her wrist and tried to feel for a pulse. "She's dead," he whispered. His lip trembled as he fought back tears. "We have to remain calm," he said over the murmuring crowd, "and I'll call the hosp--"

He was interrupted by screams. The couples that had been dancing earlier looked as if they were being drug back onto the dance floor. Their feet seemed to have minds of their own as they guided their confused owners through waltz after dizzying waltz. Even Mr. Baker was not an exception to the spell. His hands pounded down on the organ's keys, and against his will he played an erratic dirge.

George watched, feeling helpless as the guests and family members screamed and cried for help. He looked down after Little Leota gave his sleeve sharp tugs. "Master Gracey, what's going on?" Tears streamed down her thin face. "I'm scared!"

"I am too," he whispered. "Brittany!" he called. "Brittany, are you okay?"

"Yes," Brittany answered from under the table. She crawled out from her hiding spot. Her hands were bruised and bloody from the dancers stepping on them. "What's happening?" She watched as several dancers collapsed. Blood trickled out of their mouths and stained the tile floor. The large organ tipped forward, falling with poor Mr. Baker sitting in front of it, his hands still glued to the keys.

Without a word, George picked up Little Leota and began to dart around the dancers and the growing number of corpses. He was almost to the door when he glanced back to make sure his aunt was following him. His eyes widened in horror as he watched the large cutting knife that was to be used for the cake rise up off of the plate. It began to speed towards them, slicing through any obstacle, living or dead, in its path. He ran to the door and flung it open. After pushing Little Leota into the hallway, he cried, "Brittany, hurry!" He leaned against the heavy door to keep it open. "I can't hold it much longer!" She was only a few yards away when George felt something pushing on the other side, trying to close it. "Stop!" he groaned.

Despite his pleas and struggles, the door slammed shut a second before Brittany got to it, flinging him out into the hallway. "Let her in!" screamed Little Leota as he jumped up. He rammed into the door with his shoulder.

"I'm trying!" snapped George. With a cry of frustration, he pounded on the door and pulled on the handle. He froze when he heard Brittany scream. The blood-soaked knife blade started to make its way through the door, and then stopped. He watched it for a moment; afraid it would spring back to life. His eyes trailed a drop of blood as it fell from the blade and onto the floor…

_

* * *

_

_2003…_

"I'm sorry for the delay, Miss Chalmers," said Mr. Greskill. Destiny could hear the weary tone in his voice. "I've been out of work for the past few days with some kind of bug." He coughed. "Mr. Jordan said he'd give you a call. I guess he forgot."

_Yeah, sure,_ Destiny thought bitterly. With faked chipperness she did not know she could muster, she said, "That's all right. I'm just glad I was able to talk to you. I was worried about the job."

Mr. Greskill chuckled weakly. "You didn't need to. I knew right away you'd be perfect for our Design and Repair Department. I'll see you bright and early Monday morning, Miss Chalmers."

"Yes, sir. I hope you feel better. Bye." She hung up her phone and did her own 'happy dance', singing a little ditty along with it. "I got a jah-ob, I got my jah-ob! Ex ain't holding me baa-ack!" She was interrupted in mid 'cabbage patch' by the sound of faint music coming from the other end of the house. "What on Earth is that?" Giving into her curiosity, (she had been doing that an awful lot lately), she decided to investigate the noise.

After walking past the foyer, she entered the main hallway. Doors lined either side, each with its own little sign that told what each room was. On the right, another hallway branched off. This corridor was eerily dark and incredibly long, almost endless. Destiny peered into it. "Who designed this place, Vincent Price?"

"It was a Dutch fellow, I believe."

Destiny stifled a cry and whirled around to see a floating candelabrum.

"Have you lost your way, miss?" asked the voice.

"Uh, not really. I'm looking for the source of the music."

A young black girl, no more than sixteen, materialized. Her dark hair was in a short, loose braid and she wore a long, green dress. Although she looked young, her serious expression, the concise manner in which she spoke, and the way she carried herself, with her head held up and her back strait, made her appear much older. "That'll be Mr. Baker. Would you like to speak with him?"

"Yeah, sure. I'm Destiny Chalmers, by the way. I just bought the house." She gave her most friendly, I'm-Really-Not-That-Big-Of-A-Dork smile.

"I figured as much. I'm Clairece Curmon, head maid and," she groaned softly and rolled her eyes, "_nanny_ here at Gracey Manor. Should you need anything, just give a ring." She paused momentarily in front of a placard with five little bells on it, all of which were connected to strings that, at some point, were connected to other bells that were placed in the servant's quarters and other various rooms in the mansion. It was a very old, but simple device. One would simply pull the string here, which would ring the bell in another room, alerting anyone there.

"Please follow me to the ballroom." She turned to look at Destiny. "And don't mind the hallway ghouls, they really don't mean any harm." Destiny watched as the girl vanished. The floating candelabra served as the only proof she was still there. The ghost turned around and glided away.

"Wait, what do you mean by 'hallway ghouls'? What exactly is a 'hallway ghoul'? You're not answering me! Clairece!" She ran after the spirit, too afraid to stay by herself.


	10. Meeting Amelia

Chapter Nine

Heavy fists pounded furiously on the doors and the handles and knobs rattled and shook as ghouls demanded to be released from the rooms. At first, the screams and snarls had terrified Destiny as she made her way down the long, dark corridor. Now it was just annoying.

"I wish they would stop it," she heard Clairece say somewhere in front of her. The young ghost had remained invisible. The candelabra she was clutching provided hardly enough light to see more than a few feet ahead. "I mean, it doesn't get them anywhere, does it? It's not in the least bit productive. Maybe if they could put that energy into cleaning the house every once in a while…"

Destiny chuckled softly as Clairece droned on. She turned her attention to the details of the hallway. The violet wallpaper was patterned with leering goblin faces. The eyes of the creatures seemed to be following her, watching her every move. The chorus line of Rockwell's "Somebody's Watching Me" started to play in a continual loop in her mind. _Oh, great, now I'm being haunted by eighties music. _

Clairece stopped in front of a large, wooden door with a placard above it that read BALLROOM AND DINING ROOM. "Here we are, Miss Chalmers." The spirit materialized and pushed the door open just enough for Destiny to slip her slender form through.

Destiny paused in front of the door and asked, "Are you coming with me?"

Clairece shook her head. "Sorry, miss, but I've got babysitting duties to tend to. L. L. and I have been playing hide and seek." She scowled. "For three hours." After she vanished again, Destiny could hear her grumbling as she walked away. "'Being a ghost is better than Hell', they said, 'Could be worse', they said. Yeah, well they're not stuck chaperoning the little brat!"

With a fleeting feeling of pity for Clairece, Destiny slunk in. The door shut behind her and the following creak resonated throughout the enormous room. Destiny took no notice of it as she watched the scene before her with amazement. The majestic ballroom was filled with apparitions of all shapes and sizes, and, she noted as she spied a man dressed in a toga, from many time periods. Hanging from the ceiling was a giant cobweb covered chandelier. Perched on it were two ghosts in Egyptian garb. A portly spirit leaned precariously on the edge of it using only the hook of his cane to secure him. Six ethereal couples waltzed across the tile floor as the massive organ was played. The organist's cape flapped behind him and his bushy white hair stuck out from underneath his top hat. With every note, a group of skull-like wraiths floated out of the pipes. On the other side of the room was a long table where spirits happily chatted.

Destiny was so mesmerized by the ghostly party that she did not even notice as a couple danced through her. Jumping back at the shock of the icy feeling, she stumbled and slipped in her socks, nearly twisted her ankle, and landed ungracefully on the organ's keys.

The resulting sour, screeching notes brought an abrupt halt to all of the activity. The organ player glared up at her angrily at being interrupted. The dancers and party guests turned and stared at Destiny. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" she stammered. The silence was getting her unnerved.

"I didn't mean it!" She sprang up and examined the keys. "I didn't break any did I?" She touched one of the ancient ivories and it feel to the floor with a clatter. With a yelp, the terrified woman bent down to pick it up and tried to put it back in place.

One of the ghosts seated at the table snorted, sputtered, and then burst out laughing. The others laughed uproariously, unable to hold it in any longer. Destiny was still fumbling with the key.

"Great Jupiter woman!" snapped the organist gruffly. "Give me that!" He roughly snatched it from her hand and put it in its proper place. "Was that so hard?" He huffed and began playing again.

"Uh, sorry?" Destiny offered weakly.

"Oh, don't mind him, dearie," said a sympathetic voice next to Destiny. Destiny quickly recognized her as the spirit who had started laughing first. The ghost was a plump woman who appeared to be in her mid sixties. Her red-orange hair was piled into a loose bun on her head and she wore a very simple old-fashioned dress. The areas around her eyes and lips were wrinkled slightly as proof that she smiled often. Her bright, hazel eyes studied Destiny for a second before she spoke again. "I'm Amelia Audley. You must be Miss Chalmers, the mortal my nephew mentioned." After Destiny nodded, Amelia turned to the organist. "Mr. Baker, this is Destiny, the woman who bought the mansion."

Without looking up from the keys, the organist muttered, "Good for her."

"He doesn't really mean to be so grumpy."

"Of course I do!" Mr. Baker replied.

"Xavier is really a sweet man, once you get to know him."

"I most certainly am not!" Xavier Baker shot back.

"Old grouch."

"Thank you."

Amelia sighed, causing a stray orange hair to float up. "Xavier's just in a bad mood… Twenty-four-seven." She smiled when he scowled and twitched his mustache in annoyance.

"By 'nephew', did you mean George Gracey?" asked Destiny.

Amelia nodded. "Yes, I've taken care of him since he was ten. I hope he didn't try to frighten you. He tends to get a little carried away with this whole ghost nonsense, and people referring to him as 'Master Gracey' since he was a young boy has given him quite the ego."

"I figured as much," said Destiny, remembering how the overly dramatic spirit had introduced himself. "Not that he's a bad person or anything," she quickly added, hoping she had not offended Amelia. "He's just a little…" She faltered for the right word.

"Melodramatic," finished Amelia. She shook her head and sighed. "He's always been that way. It covers up insecurities."

Destiny arched an eyebrow. George had seemed quite the opposite of insecure. The guy just oozed smugness and self-confidence. She decided not to question Amelia, feeling it was none of her business in the first place. She yawned and glanced down at the watch and was shocked to realize it was already eleven thirty. "I'm going to have to get some sleep. It was nice meeting you, Amelia."

"It was nice meeting you, too, dearie. We'll wrap things up here so as to not keep you awake. Don't mind the ghouls."

Destiny rolled her eyes as she walked out of the room. _Some ghouls. _After shutting the door behind her, she looked down the dark hallway. It was quiet. _A little too quiet. _She shrugged and started walking down the corridor. Her suspicions fell as she neared the end. _Maybe the ghouls won't give me any more trouble after all. _She smiled to herself. _Yep, I'm the big, bad master of the manor now. _She added a bit of a cocky strut to her walk.

A door to her right slammed open and an ugly phantom sprang out. "BOO!"

"AAH!" Destiny shrieked. She ran the rest of the way to her room and ducked under her bed covers. She decided not to come out of hiding until the next morning.


	11. Koji Meets the Hitchhikers

Chapter Ten

Despite falling asleep late the previous night, Destiny awoke early Friday morning. _I can't wait until I can start going to work again on Monday_, she thought. She was bored. There was absolutely nothing to do, except chat with the ghosts and they seemed to be hiding. Her stomach growled and she staggered groggily to the kitchen, not caring if any of the spirits saw her in her pajamas.

The kitchen was modest compared to the much larger and grand rooms of Gracey Manor. It was connected to the ballroom/dining room by a swinging door. The dingy, beige tile floor was in serious need of vacuuming. A small wooden table was in the very center of the room, with three cobweb-covered chairs around it. Against one wall was a gigantic refrigerator, which was to the right of an enormous oven. To the left of the oven was a stainless steel sink. Above and below the sink were cupboards, which had a few cracked dishes in them. On the other side of the kitchen was a cabinet that was almost as tall as Destiny. It had five shelves that were empty, with the exception of even more collections of dust and cobwebs.

Destiny sighed and opened the refrigerator, knowing that there probably would not be anything in it. All it contained was a very moldy and disgusting half-eaten sandwich, several fuzzy oranges, a carton of sour milk, and something green and slimy that she dared not try to identify.

Something was very odd about the carton, though. As she peered closer at it, she noticed there were two round things floating in it. They were eyes, bright blue eyes. "No way," she whispered as she leaned closer to the container.

The eyes blinked and a mouth appeared and cried out, "Got milk?"

"Crimany monkey fudger!" Destiny shrieked as she jumped back.

The face in the milk vanished and George appeared behind her. The aristocratic ghost had his usual smug smile and his bright blue eyes twinkled mischievously. "'Crimany monkey fudger'?" he asked with an arched eyebrow. "Cursing sure has changed since my day."

Destiny exhaled slowly, causing a stray brown hair to float up over her eyes. After waiting for a second for her heart rate to regain its normal rhythm, she said, "I'm going to start making you wear little bells so that you can't sneak up on me anymore." She slammed the refrigerator door.

George chuckled.

"What was with your little disappearing act yesterday?" asked Destiny. "You left us …" She paused for effect. "_Hanging _there."

"Oh, sure, pick on the dead guy," he said and rolled his eyes.

"Are you-- I mean, is **it **still hanging in the gallery?" She jerked her thumb toward the direction of the room. "Or was the corpse just a ghostly illusion?" She hoped it was the latter.

George's grin vanished. "Oh, the, uh, my… Yeah, it's still there." Feeling suddenly embarrassed, he stared down at his Italian loafers.

Destiny felt sorry for the ghost. She hardly knew him, and yet she felt an odd bond, like a friendship, or at least a tolerance. "You mean after all these years no one bothered to cut the noose and bury it--uh, you?"

"No." George grew very solemn. "You see, after I died Gracey Manor was left to the caretaker, Thomas O' Dell. You've met his son and saw how he acted. His father was a bigger nervous wreck than he was. The body of," he paused as if trying to remember, "_another person_ who died about the same time I did was found by Thomas. While he was searching through the mansion, I appeared, rather hastily, I'll admit, and told him what happened. The poor man turned white as a ghost," George smiled at his own little joke, "and took off running. The same thing happened when I told his son, who took over as caretaker sometime in the 1960s.

"We've had many people visit the house, mainly kids, antique hunters, and squatters. But they never stayed for more than a day. Apparently my story was passed on because I would hear them whispering about it when they snuck in."

"And I bet you gave all of them quite a show, didn't you?" asked Destiny with a smile.

"I've got to do something to pass the time, don't I?" asked George with a grin. "You know, Miss Chalmers, you have been quite surprising."

"How so?"

"You're the first person who didn't run at the sound of my voice."

Destiny shrugged her thin shoulders. "I didn't see any reason to. 'Sides, this is my home now, too and I'm determined to stay."

"You are either the bravest woman I know or the most stubborn."

"Stubborn, trust me."

The pounding of the heavy doorknocker to the tune of "Chim Chim Cheerie" echoed throughout the entire house. "Oh goody," said George dryly, "our little friend is back."

Destiny sighed. "I hope he makes this quick. McDonald's stops serving breakfast at ten-thirty."

"Mc-What?" asked George, completely confused.

Destiny didn't answer his question; instead she trudged to the front door and opened it.

"Mornin', Destiny," said Koji brightly. He was wearing his usual trench coat and baggy jeans. Without his hat, Destiny could see his messy, spiky black hair. As usual he was wearing a quirky shirt. Today his attire said: Just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean people aren't following me. The young paranormal investigator stared at her for a moment, his jaw open. He had not expected to see her in her pajamas.

Destiny crossed her arms over her chest and cleared her throat. "Catching flies, Mr. Wendell?"

He quickly regained his composure. "Aw, just call me Koji," he said brightly. "Say, you don't mind if I talk to you for a few minutes, do you? Just some questions about odd things happening in the house, routine stuff."

"Sure. Do you mind if we talk about this over breakfast?"

Koji blinked his large, dark eyes in surprise. "Yeah. We'll take my car. I know a nice little diner down the road."

"Sounds great. I'll be right back."

Koji watched her walk away and disappear into her bedroom, quickly closing the door behind her. He smiled. "She's finally warming up to me."

"Only because you agreed to take her to breakfast."

"Geeze!" Koji jumped at the sound of George's voice.

The ghost appeared beside him, beaming with pride. "I love having that effect on people," he said as he adjusted his tie.

Koji chuckled nervously. "Heh, it's just you. That was quite the little performance yesterday, the whole thing with the candles lighting and the hanging corpse. The intro was a nice touch. You're quite the dramatic."

"I aim to please." George smiled smugly. When he glanced into the main hallway, the smile turned into a frown. "Hey!"

Koji followed George's gaze. He was shocked to see his fedora floating about three feet in the air.

"Young lady," said George in a warning tone.

The invisible spirit stopped and walked towards them. The apparition, a tiny, dainty girl, slowly materialized and took off the hat. She held it in her small hands and shuffled a foot.

"So that's what happened to my hat," Koji muttered.

"That belongs to Mr. Wendell, L.L.," said George. "You should give it back."

L.L. stared back down at the fedora and fidgeted with it. "All right," she said reluctantly as she held it out. "Here you go, Mr. Wendell." She heaved a heavy sigh and stuck out her lower lip in a pouty expression.

Koji stooped down at smiled. Normally, he thought children were nasty little vermin that should be wiped off the Earth, but he felt some pity for this dead girl. And—he was not going to admit this out loud—she freaked him out. "Why don't you keep it until I get back?"

Her face brightened with a huge smile. "Really? Thank you!" She put the hat back on and hugged him tightly, sending shivers down his spine. "I'll take special care of it!" She skipped away, slowly disappearing from sight.

Koji shuddered. "That is the creepiest child I've ever seen." He looked over at George, who seemed oddly uncomfortable. "She's not your…"

"Uh, you know, I--" George began with a slight crack to his voice and a stammer.

"Okay, I'm ready," said Destiny as she emerged from her bedroom. She had changed into jeans, sneakers, and a shirt that said "Freud would have a field day with you". She slung her small purse over her shoulder. "Let's go. I'm starving."

"You heard the lady," said George as he ushered them out. He watched as they walked to Koji's car. "And beware of hitchhiking ghosts!" He laughed and slammed the door shut, leaving the two mortals looking very perplexed.

* * *

"What did he mean by that?" asked Koji as he snapped in his seatbelt and stuck his keys in the ignition. The car refused to start. Being the jalopy that it was, this didn't surprise Destiny. It sputtered and whined for several seconds, and then it stopped making any noise at all. "I don't understand. It was fine earlier." Koji continued to twist the car key back and forth. 

"Should we take mine?" asked Destiny.

"Nah, it should be fine. Just let me give her a quick check under the hood." He got out of the car, leaving Destiny to mope.

She sighed. "So much for breakfast." _Men. I swear..._

"Hey, Ezra," said a voice in the backseat, snapping her out of her thoughts. "Do you smell old curly fries?"

Destiny scowled and looked up into the rearview mirror. Two ghosts, both middle aged men, sat in the backseat. The one who had spoken was plump, in a battered suit and top hat. His companion was tall and skeletal and wearing a frayed coat, bowtie, and bowler derby. She recognized them as two of the first ghosts she had seen. "Out of the car. Now."

"We ain't bothering anybody," said Ezra, the emaciated man.

Destiny turned around. "What are you doing here?"

The plump, slightly shorter ghost leaned back and put his hands behind his head. "Catching a ride."

"Look," said Destiny, "you can't just—Hey, weren't there three of you?"

Right on cue, Koji screamed and sprang back away from the car.

"I was wondering where Gus got to," said the shorter ghost.

Destiny got out and joined Koji. "What's wrong?"

Koji slammed the hood down. "Found the problem." Suddenly a transparent ball, connected to a large chain was flung through the hood, barely missing Koji's head.

Destiny opened the car hood and glared down at the spirit hiding near the engine. "You get out this instant."

A dwarfish ghost who was hardly more than four feet tall, with a long, shaggy beard, and a ball and chain shackled to his ankle, shyly climbed out. He looked up at Destiny indignantly. "Mean lady don't let Gus have any fun!"

"Too bad," said Destiny. She crossed her arms. "I want all three of you out of Koji's car now."

Koji looked over at Destiny and tried to mimic her scowl. "Yeah, outta my car, pronto." He watched the two specters as they opened the back door and got out. "Couldn't you have glided though?" he asked, confused.

"Yeah," said the skinny ghost with a shrug. "But then we wouldn't have been able to do this." The spirits slammed the door as hard as they could, causing the old car shake so badly it nearly tipped over. They laughed and vanished.

Koji closed the hood again. "Who were those guys?"

"Don't know," said Destiny as they got back into the car.

Koji sighed and managed to get the car started. "On to breakfast?"

"Please."

* * *

A/N: Thanks to all of the people who have left reviews! 


	12. Breakfast with Koji

Chapter Eleven

Cozy, sanitary, friendly atmosphere. These all describe many New England restaurants. Unfortunately for Destiny, this was not one of them. "The nice little diner" Koji had taken her to was a greasy eatery housed in a small rectangular building with a big neon sign on it that simply said EAT. A number of burly truck drivers and drifters sat at the counter, and a couple of travel weary families were hunched over in booths, eating a quick breakfast before they had to get back on the road. A million disgusting urban legends about little eateries just like this one flashed through Destiny's mind. She tried to forget them when a waitress came by their booth to take their order.

"Good mornin', Mable," Koji said.

Mable was an almost stereotypical diner waitress, with a faded, grease-stained pink dress, horn rimmed glasses, a towering bouffant, and a large hairy mole on her left cheek. She chewed a wad of bubblegum loudly and held a note pad in one hand and a pen in the other. She smiled, and then started hacking, and then smiled again. "Good morning, Kojo."

"Uh, Koji," he corrected her.

"Cody."

"Close enough. I'll have the usual. Destiny, what do you want?"

Destiny was looking into the kitchen. A rat dashed around the counter and into one of the cabinets. She felt her stomach heave!

"Destiny?"

"Anything without rodent feces," she muttered. Then she realized what she had said and hastily added, "Uh, I mean the breakfast platter." She hoped she had not offended the waitress. The last thing she wanted was something "extra" added to her meal. She smiled sweetly as she watched the waitress walk away. After Mable had disappeared into the kitchen, Destiny said, "This place is disgusting. How can you eat here?"

"Good service, good food," Koji said simply.

Destiny crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow skeptically. "It's really cheap, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Koji admitted shamefully. He ran his hand through his hair, making it look even messier "My job doesn't exactly bring in the big bucks."

"So," asked Destiny, "how does one become a paranormal investigator, anyway?"

He thought about it for a moment. "I couldn't see spirits when I first started studying the supernatural, but after I developed that sixth sense, I decided to stick with it."

"Like a 'Haley Joel Osment' sixth sense?"

Koji nodded. "As well as a number of other things."

"Couldn't hold down a real job, huh?"

"That's one of those other things. How long have _you _been able to see ghosts?" he asked, quickly taking the topic off of him.

Destiny shrugged. "I thought everyone could."

Koji shook his head. "Well, everyone has the potential to, but years of being told such things don't exists and refusing to believe kind of," he faltered for a moment, "blinds that sight. Some people can just never get it, some do. Witnessing death or going through a near-death experience can bring it about, too." He noticed that Destiny suddenly looked very solemn. "Are you okay?"

"Huh?" She blinked several times and came out of her daze. "Yeah, just…thinking." She sighed. "I was there when my Dad and grandparents died. Grandma's house caught on fire while we were asleep. After Mom and I were out, Dad ran back in after Grandma and Grandpa and the whole house just collapsed."

"Oh," said Koji. "I'm sorry. How old were you?"

"Ten."

They were both silent and were staring down into their cold coffees when Mable briskly walked back, humming a ditty and carrying their plates. "Here you go, hon'," she said as she put Koji's plate in front of him. "And for you shug'." She put Destiny's plate on the table. "So, Komo--"

"Koji!"

"Who's your lady friend?" Mable smiled slyly.

"Uh, this is Destiny Chalmers," said Koji quickly. "Strictly business."

"Oh, really? You know," she said to Koji, "I've got a niece that would just _adore _you!"

Koji just smiled nervously. "Uh, great. Really." Someone yelled in the kitchen and Mable rushed off. Koji sighed. "Thank you," he whispered heavenward. "She's always trying to hook me up with some cousin or niece or any lonely relative of hers." He shuddered. "Really, I'm not trying to be shallow, but…" He shuddered again. "Went along with her set-ups three times. Every one ended in disaster. Never again!" He began to dig into his pancakes.

Destiny looked down at her food with uncertainty as she tried to figure out which waitress was missing a long, gray hair, which had found its way onto her scrambled eggs. "So, anyway, last night was pretty interesting."

"How so?" asked Koji with his mouth full.

"Well, I went into the ballroom last night and there was a huge party going on."

He dipped his bacon into maple syrup and then chewed it thoughtfully. "So the whole ballroom was full of ghosts?"

"Dozens. Dancing, talking, one played an organ. Don't you think it's bizarre that--"

"When they danced did they glide or did their feet touch the ground?"

"That's not important. What's important is that there were so many of them, and from different time periods. I mean, some hundreds of years apart. Don't you think that's a little…strange?"

"Kinda. Hey are you going to finish those pancakes?"

"Nah, you can have them." She pushed the plate towards him. "So, why would there be so many? I know there's a huge cemetery there, but those graves can't go further back than the eighteen hundreds."

"Maybe _something _pulled them there and now they can't leave."

Destiny stared at him. "Huh?" This had to be the first semi-intelligent thing the young man had said to her. "You mean, like a conjure spell or something?"

Koji's dark eyes grew wide with surprise and amazement. "Exactly! How'd you know?"

Destiny shrugged. "Something I read in a horror novel once." She stared down at her plate. "Koji, can I ask you to do a favor for me?"

"Sure."

"On the way back to the mansion, can we swing by your place and get a ladder?"

"A… ladder?" he asked, confused.

"And maybe a sharp knife?"

Koji's jaw dropped in surprise and he leaned back away from her. "Uh, I don't know if I want to be a part of your plan."

"It's nothing bad. I just want to cut George down. The poor guy, well, his body anyway, has been hanging in that room for years. I'd like to give him a proper burial. He's already got a grave near the side of the house. Maybe if we do that, he can cross over, or at least get some kind of closure." She looked up at Koji, giving him a pleading stare.

He tried to avert his gaze from her big, brown eyes and found it impossible. "It's not fair! You're giving me the puppy dog eyes!" He sighed huffily. "All right. But only on one condition: I get that last strip of bacon."

"Knock yourself out. Waitress, check please!

* * *

Destiny was surprised when she saw Koji's home. It just looked so _normal._ It was a small, one story, little beige house that looked just like every other little, one story, beige house in the middle-class suburban neighborhood. The small front yard was surprisingly well kept.

"What's wrong?" asked Koji upon seeing Destiny's shocked expression.

"It's just not what I expected."

"Oh, you thought I'd live in some creepy, old house by a cemetery right? I wish! I envy you, you know." He took his house keys out of his pocket and unlocked the front door. "Welcome to my humble abode."

The inside of his house was much like the outside: tidy and normal. His front room had a small couch in the center of it, and a small television set that sat on an old V. C. R. that was perched on a shelf. The shelf sat on a large cabinet filled with cheesy, B horror movies.

"I need to get something out of my office first," said Koji. "You can come check it out if you want."

Destiny felt awkward just standing in Koji's living room, so she followed him. Unlike the rest of the house, Koji's office was cluttered. Papers and books sat in piles on his huge desk; pictures and sketches were pinned up on the walls. These included photographs of strange lights in the sky, ghostly shapes and figures, pictures of cemeteries, and even a few pictures of sea monsters. Beside the desk was a filing cabinet and on top of it was a little voodoo doll, complete with pins.

"I got that as a gift from a voodoo priestess in Haiti," said Koji when he noticed Destiny was looking at the doll.

"What did you do?" she asked.

"Saved her life from a zombie," he answered nonchalantly. He began searching through the desk drawers.

Destiny was looking over the pictures and spied a couple in their early fifties. The woman was Japanese, with short, shiny black hair, a round face, and a large, kind smile. The man was white, with gray hair that had tints of the auburn it had once been. He wore a small, patient smile that made the area around his eyes crinkle slightly.

"Are they your parents?" asked Destiny.

Koji looked up from his searching. He now had a pile nearly a foot deep of pencils, papers, and various junk. "Yeah. They live down in Florida, in a place called Casadega. That's where I grew up. We lived in a community full of psychics. My parents were both clairvoyants and held séances. But, despite having a gifted family, and training, and praying, I didn't receive any of the talents they had. I was so angry and jealous that I worked hard to prove that what my parents did was a sham."

"Oh, that's what you meant by 'other things,'" she mumbled. "So, what made you change your mind? And when were you able to see ghosts?" Destiny asked as she helped him clean up.

"About three years ago, I went back to Florida for an assignment, and my parents asked if I wanted to participate in a séance with them. I decided to humor them and go along with it. When nothing happened within the first few minutes, I started making little smart-alek comments. The others glared at me, but didn't say anything. Suddenly the table started shaking and several objects started to float around the room. I laughed and told Mom that she should be ashamed to stoop to such low parlor tricks.

"Then that dictionary got me right on the back of the head. When I opened my eyes, I was floating near the ceiling. The moment I saw my body lying on the floor, I started screaming at the top of my lungs. Dad was crouched over my body. He calmly stood up and looked at me and said, 'That enough proof for ya?'" Koji chuckled at the memory. "The ambulance arrived shortly after and the paramedics revived me."

"What did you say to your parents?"

"I sobbed like a baby and begged for forgiveness. But ever since then, I've had no problem seeing ghosts." He picked up a small vial filled with clear liquid up off the floor and put it into his pocket. "Well, I got what I needed. Let's get the knife and ladder."

As they headed for his garage, Destiny asked, "What was that anyway?"

"Holy water," said Koji. "Just in case."

"Oh." _In case of what!_

* * *

A/N: I created the character Mable.


	13. Funeral for a Ghost

Chapter Twelve

"Hurry up! This thing's heavy!" whined Koji. Destiny managed to find the correct key and unlocked the front door. She and Koji dragged the ladder inside. They laid it down on the floor and Destiny began searching along the wall for the hidden door. Koji tossed his trench coat onto the coat rack and was pleasantly surprised to see that his fedora had been returned to the hat stand, as promised.

Destiny pulled open the sliding panel that lead into the hidden gallery, surprised that none of the usual ghosts had appeared to see what all the commotion was. "Koji," she said, "help me with the ladder." He completely ignored her and walked over to the grand fireplace and stared up at the old picture that hung above it. The canvas was covered with thick dust and it was almost impossible to tell what the image was supposed to be. "What are you doing?" she asked as he dragged the loveseat towards the hearth.

Koji did not answer. He pushed the overly stuffed chair against the fireplace and then stood on it. Holding onto the back of it with one hand, he wiped the dust off of the painting with the other. The detective pulled off cobweb after cobweb until most of the picture was visible.

"It's George," whispered Destiny. "But when he was younger." The portrait depicted George Gracey as he appeared in his early twenties. Even as a young man, he had that same smug smile. At least twenty years had passed between the time the painting was done and when he had died, but Destiny could tell that his features had not changed much in those years. The artist's attention to details had been amazing. It seemed as if George's eyes really were staring down at the viewer. She had almost forgotten that it was a painting and not a photograph.

Koji peered closer at the painting, as if he was trying to find a secret message hidden within the paint strokes. He suddenly leapt back, nearly falling off the chair. "The picture's changing!" he yelped. At first the metamorphosis was slow and very subtle, but in a few seconds it became quicker and more evident. George's hair began to fall out in clumps and his skin became pale and his bright eyes dimmed. The material of his tuxedo thinned and tore, leaving open patches at the shoulders and elbows. This process continued until nothing remained except a leering skeleton.

Koji stared, slack-jawed. ""We just saw him age."

Destiny shook her head. "He didn't get to be that old. We just watched him decay."

* * *

"Quit shaking the ladder!" Koji squeaked.

"I'm not shaking it, you are!" Destiny snapped back. "If you want to, come back down and I'll climb up and get it."

Koji gripped the sides of the ladder until his knuckles were white. "I'm f-fine, really."

"Even if I let go, it's not going to fall," Destiny explained, exasperated. "You have nothing to worry about."

"Right, nothing to worry about. I'm just cutting down a corpse that's been hanging up here for sixty some-odd years and the man who it belonged to is still in this house." He continued to climb until he reached the top of the ladder. His stomach lurched when he came face-to-face with the skeleton. Trembling, he took his knife out of his pocket and began to cut at the noose. "Destiny?" he whimpered. "Are you still down there?" He did not get a reply. "Destiny!" He looked down and discovered she was gone. "I'm twenty feet up on a ladder with a dead guy!" he screamed.

"Oh, calm down! I'm just outside the gallery door," said Destiny. "I'm looking for George. If we're going to give him a funeral, he should know about it. I'm pretty sure he's nearby. No one else could have pulled off that trick with the portrait." She looked up at the painting. He seemed so familiar to her…

"Destiny!" cried Koji. "I cut him down. I, uh, think I need some help."

Destiny walked back into the room. "Kudos, Koji. Can you ease him down about half way? I'll get him from there."

Knees and hands shaking, Koji tried to lower the body carefully while Destiny climbed up. The cloth of the tattered tuxedo jacket slid in his sweaty palms, and he dropped the corpse. Destiny tried to make a dive for it and nearly fell off the ladder. Suddenly, the cadaver stopped in mid-air, just four feet before it would have crashed on the floor. It righted itself and pointed a finger accusingly at Destiny.

"How dare you disturb me?" the skeleton boomed in George's voice as the skull's jaws clacked. "I have never seen such insol--" The bottom jaw fell off. "Oops." George materialized, holding the skeleton. He grinned mischievously. "Just playing a little joke."

"Very funny," snapped Koji sarcastically. "You're a real laugh riot." He slowly descended down the rungs.

"What exactly are you doing?" George asked worriedly.

"We're going to bury it," Destiny explained. "Don't you want it to be buried?"

The ghost looked confused. "Yes, but--but why would you do this for me?" He stared down numbly at the bones cradled in his transparent arms.

"Why not?" answered Destiny. The spirit did not have a retort.

"Well," Koji said, "I'll get the shovel."

* * *

Koji and Destiny were covered in dirt and mud by the time they were done digging the grave. They gently placed the skeleton down in the earth. "Sorry we couldn't get a coffin," said Destiny. George nodded. He had not spoken a single word since he had discovered Destiny's plan.

"Should we say a few words?" asked Koji after he and Destiny had climbed out of the pit. He looked over at Destiny, who shrugged. "Man, this awkward," he muttered. "Well this was all your idea, you do it."

Destiny shot him a spiteful glare, and then cleared her throat. "What can I say about George Gracey? It's odd giving a eulogy for a man who, at this moment, stands beside me. He seems to be a good person, someone with a unique sense of humor whom I can only hope to know better. May his soul soon find solace."

Her speech was followed by silence. Then George whispered, "How I wish Miss Chalmers was right." Destiny and Koji watched him with disbelief. He ignored their stares and continued. "All through my life I've made decisions that have haunted me, even in death. I wish _she_ could know how sorry I am."

"We should go inside," Koji whispered to Destiny. "It looks like it's going to start pouring any minute." He glanced up at the gray sky and the ominous gathering clouds. Destiny nodded. She did not want to stay outside, but she did not feel comfortable leaving George.

"Are you going in?" she asked nervously.

"No, you go on."

She sighed. "Mr. Gracey, I'm really sorry if I offended you. It was stupid of me to just assume that--"

"Do you think I'm mad at you?" George asked. He smiled. "I never thought anybody would ever do this for me. Thank you. I just want to be alone to think for a little bit."

Destiny nodded and she and Koji silently walked back to the mansion. Before she closed the door, she looked back at George. He had knelt down at the grave next to his. She could not recall whose name was on it.

"You know what just occurred to me?" Koji's voice snapped Destiny out of her daze. He was staring up at the painting. "He looks like you."

"What are you talking about?" She turned and looked up at George's portrait. She had to admit his facial features were shockingly similar to her own, except for his eyes, which were identical to someone else she had known. _But who?_

"Hey!" a raspy voice called out. Koji jumped back as the tall, skeletal hitchhiker who had jumped into his car that morning appeared. "We just wanted to--"

Koji grabbed the bottle of holy water out of his pocket, opened it, and splashed it on the spirit. The ghost's two companions, the plump man and the bearded dwarf with the ball and chain attached to his ankle, materialized at Koji's side. The skeletal spook glared at him angrily.

"It's, uh, holy water," Koji said timidly.

The ghost clutched his stomach where the offending liquid had hit him and sank to his knees, gasping. He coughed and gagged, grasping at the air until he fell face down on the floor. He dragged himself across the carpet to Koji, grabbed the terrified man's ankle, and collapsed. Koji peered down at the specter. The spirit let go of Koji's leg, rolled onto his back and kicked his legs up once. He tongue flopped out of the side of his mouth, and a long stream of drool cascaded down his chin.

"What did you do?" the pudgy ghost shrieked.

"I just--It was," Koji stammered.

A carpetbag appeared at the plump ghost's side. He opened it and pulled out a stethoscope and put it on the emaciated spirit's chest.

"Well?" asked Koji worriedly, wringing his hands.

The ghost shook his head. "Doesn't look good kid." He lifted the spirit's skinny wrist and felt for a pulse. He took off the stethoscope and put it back in his bag. "He's dead."

"Duh," said Destiny, rolling her eyes.

Koji did not hear her. "I didn't mean to! I'm so sorry!"

"Ezzie's dead!" the little ghost cried. He grabbed the end of Koji's shirt and blew his nose, leaving a large, disgusting glob of ectoplasmic snot.

"You killed him!" the pudgy spirit cried. "He loved you like a brother and you killed him!"

"I didn't even know him!"

The "dead" ghost opened his mouth and spoke. "Come closer."

Koji leaned down. "What is it?"

"Just a teensie bit closer."

Koji leaned further down. "Yes?"

"I just wanted to…" He coughed. "To…"

"To what?" Koji whispered.

"To do THIS!" He sprang up through Koji and kicked the young man's legs out from underneath of him. Cackling, he smoothed down his long coat and said, "I've suckered some saps in my life, but, boy, you take the cake.

"Are you okay?" asked Destiny as she helped him up. "Anything hurt?"

"Only my pride," grumbled Koji, sitting up. "Who are you guys?"

"Oh, introductions," the pudgy ghost said brightly. "The very reason we came here. I'm Phineas Queeg, and this is my half-brother and business associate, Ezra Dobbins." He gestured to the skinny ghost.

Ezra took off his bowler derby and bowed. He clasped Destiny's hand and kissed it. Flashing them a skeletal grin, he continued the introductions. "And our little pal here," he ruffled the short ghost's hair, "is Gus Gracey. He's not the brightest light on the chandelier, but he's got a heart of gold."

Gus grabbed Destiny's hand, yanking her down. He planted sloppy kisses all over her hand until she wrenched it free from his grasp.

"I suppose that 'heart of gold' is how he got that shackle on his ankle, huh?" asked Koji skeptically.

Gus's mustache twitched angrily and he narrowed his eyes. Grabbing his chain, he swung it like a lasso and flung it at Koji. With a flick of the little man's wrist, the chains wrapped around the mortals ankles and tripped him. "You have no right to judge Gus!" Gus cried.

"All right! All right!" yelled Koji. "I'm sorry, okay. Get this thing off me."

Smiling pleasantly, Gus obliged.

Destiny turned to look out the window. George had vanished and rain was starting to drizzle. "Maybe you should go home before it starts storming again, Koji."

"What about you?" he asked.

She arched an eyebrow. "I'm off to a warm shower. I suggest you do the same. We're a little funky after all that digging."

Phineas and Ezra each lifted up one of Koji's arms and sniffed. "She isn't kidding," said Phineas. "But I have something to help that." He opened his carpetbag again and started digging through it. He tossed out various items over his shoulder. "No…nope. How'd this get in there?" He tossed a yellow rubber duck behind him.

Ezra caught it and stuck it in his pocket. "Duckie!" Eyes growing even wider with nervousness, he cried defensively, "Look, it's a childhood toy, it has sentimental value!"

"Got it!" Phineas pulled out a small, old-fashioned perfume bottle. "Queeg's Over-Oderizer, guaranteed to over power the worst body stenches imaginable."

"Hold on!" yelled Koji. "I don't think--"

His cry came too late. Phineas squeezed the bottle's atomizer, spraying a fine mist under Koji's arm. "Give it about five seconds and…"

"Oh my god!" gasped Koji. "It smells like a garbage dump!"

"Well, it does cover up the smell of B. O. doesn't it?" Phineas asked with a grin.

Koji fanned a hand under his arm. With a frustrated huff, he said to Destiny, "I don't want to leave you alone with _them_. Who knows what they might do?"

"We'd never hurt the little lady," said Ezra. He held up two fingers. "Scout's honor."

"You were never a scout," said Phineas.

"Dead man's honor."

Phineas snapped his fingers and all of the items that had been flung out of the carpetbag, (with the exception of Ezra's rubber duckie), floated back into it. "And if anyone were to hurt her…"

"We'd beat 'em like they owe us money," finished Ezra.

"No one here is going to hurt me," said Destiny. "I'll be okay."

"Fine," Koji grumbled. "But at the first sign of trouble, you call me."

After he was out the door, Ezra asked, "Should we?"

"Haven't we done enough to the poor guy?" asked Phineas.

"What do you think, Gus?" they asked together. Gus nodded enthusiastically. Cackling, they vanished, leaving Destiny to wonder what torment they were inflicting on the poor young man.

* * *

As Destiny walked into her room to get some clean clothes, she was startled to see Little Leota sitting on the edge of her bed, clutching an old teddy bear.

"Oh, I didn't see you there," Destiny tried to say as pleasantly as she could while her heart pounded like a jackhammer.

L.L. hugged the stuffed animal and looked up at Destiny. "I saw what you did for Mr. Gracey. That was very kind of you. That's the nicest thing anyone has done for him in a long time."

Destiny leaned back against the dresser. "Were you two close?"

The tiny girl put the bear beside her. "I think I knew him better than most people did. He was like a father to me." She smiled wistfully. "We used to play hide and seek in the graveyard at night and play pranks on the servants. He was my only friend and he spent more time with me than my own mother did."

"What about your real father?" asked Destiny.

L.L. shrugged her thin shoulders. "I never knew him. Mother didn't tell me who he was. I don't hold it against her and I don't think any less of her for it." She stared down at her feet. "I should give you your privacy now. I just wanted to thank you for giving him a funeral. He's a really sweet guy once you get to know him." She slid off the bed and floated to the door. Before she vanished, she shot Destiny a retreating glance. Little Leota's right eye was bright green, and her left eye was a brilliant blue.

* * *

Destiny walked into the bathroom. She had turned on the shower before she went into her bedroom so the water could heat up. As she closed the door, she could hear singing coming from the shower…

"Grim grinning ghosts come out to socialize, so don't close your eyes and don't try to hide or a silly ghost will, uh, steal your wallet! Grim grinning ghosts come out to vocalize! Do-do-do-do do-do-do dittle-lit-do!"

Destiny yanked back the shower curtain. Ezra screamed.

"Oh geeze!" she yelled. "What are you doing in my shower? Out, out, out!" She turned and put her hand over her eyes as the ghost stepped out of the tub.

With a huff, he snatched a towel off the rack and wrapped it around his skinny waist. "Oh, so the mortal thinks ghosts can't bathe, huh?" He took off his shower cap and flung it on the counter. "Don't think just 'cause we're dead we don't like a relaxing shower every now and then!" He stormed out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Destiny sighed and was about to take off her towel when Ezra stuck his head through the door.

"What?" she shouted, exasperated.

"Can I have my rubber ducky, please?"

She reached into the tub, picked up the toy, and threw it to him.

"Thank you!" He vanished.

Destiny sighed, causing a stray hair to float up over her eyes. _I am definitely going to have to lay down some ground rules._


	14. Dustin to the Rescue

Chapter Thirteen

The chandelier provided very little light in the foyer and created sharp, flickering shadows that danced on the walls. Destiny tucked her robe tightly around her and laid back in the over-stuffed loveseat. She stared up at the portrait of Master Gracey. The resemblances between her and the ghost were uncanny.

_There has to be some sort of relation between us._ She gave an involuntary shudder at this. _Is he, or rather, was he some sort of distant uncle or a cousin? _She recalled how her grandmother had visited George's grave a few times when she had been a small child. But how did her grandmother connect with all of this? To Destiny's knowledge, the old woman had never spoken of him. Maybe when she had died, she had taken a few secrets with her.

_And how did the ad for the mansion get into my apartment? _Destiny felt determined to find some answers. She scowled and drummed her fingertips on her chair armrests. Somewhere in the darkness of the corridor, the grandfather clocked chimed the hour. Midnight. She needed sleep.

As she stood up, she could hear the faint sounds of musical instruments tuning up. _Bagpipes? _she thought. _What sort of freak plays bagpipes at twelve a.m.? _She groaned, knowing that unless she discovered the source of the racket she would not be able to get her forty winks that night.

She slipped her feet into her fuzzy purple slippers and made her way down the long hallway towards the back of the house. She was careful to remain as far from the doors as she could. To her surprise, none of the knobs twisted and nothing begged to be let out. She glanced at one door and noticed a sign hanging from one of the handles. In beautifully written cursive, it read: "We apologize for the inconvenience, but we are out for a spiritual sabbatical and will return soon to scare the bejeezus out of you. Warmest wishes, the Corridor Ghouls."

"Well, at least they're polite," she mused. She continued on, following the sound of the music.

The off-key screeching grew steadily louder as she neared the back of the house. Her search brought her to a large wooden door with a small placard on it that read "Backyard and Cemetery." She had seen the immense graveyard when she had first toured the mansion. It had not bothered her then because a large part of her adolescent life had been spent in graveyards, plus she figured it would deter salesmen from visiting her. Now, however, the very thought of setting one foot into the crowded cemetery caused chills to race up her spine. With her heart pounding, she took in a deep breath, grasped the knob, and opened the door.

* * *

The graveyard had actually been the town's cemetery before Gracey Manor was built next to it. By the time the mansion had been erected, another cemetery had been built closer to the heart of Liberty Square, and the old graveyard had been abandoned for years. Its headstones were cracked and crumbling apart, the mausoleums were moldy, and the plant life was overgrown. Master Gracey's father bought the land and hired men to tidy it up. It soon became a new home for departed loved ones of the Graceys.

* * *

Destiny walked onto the back porch and the sight before her took her breath away. Dozens of ghosts were chatting, laughing, dancing and playing. Wispy spirits rose from their graves to join the party.

"Oh my," was all Destiny managed to murmur. As she slowly began to back up, a guttural voice with a thick Scottish accent asked, "Where you goin', lass?" She turned to see the player of the bagpipes, a middle-aged spook in a kilt. Around him were his fellow band members: a man softly playing a shrill flute, a drummer using a casket and two bones, an ethereal harp player, and a medieval minstrel tooting on a horn.

"Oh, I was just going back inside," she answered quickly. "So, uh, I'll be going." She backtracked towards the porch.

"Stay a while and enjoy the party," suggested the drummer.

She watched the festivities for a moment and her curiosity got the better of her. After all, with the music playing, there was a good chance she was not actually going to get any sleep anyway. She might as well get to know some of her "roommates." Shaking her head in amusement, she passed five singing marble busts.

"Do you guys take requests?" she asked.

"Sure thing, young lady," a baritone voiced bust answered. "What did you have in mind?"

"_Thriller_."

"Don't know it."

"Didn't think so," she replied, feeling an ounce of disappointment. The image of the old-fashioned ghosts doing the Michael Jackson zombie dance almost had her giggling out loud as she walked away.

Everyone seemed too caught up in his or her games and conversations to notice her as she strolled through the graveyard. She decided to plop down on an old, round tombstone and watch the goings-on for a while.

Suddenly, a snarling, decayed looking ghost sprang up in front of her and grabbed her wrist. She let out a shrill, terrified scream as two more putrefied phantoms clawed at her legs. She tore free and leapt away, the ghosts right at her heels. They snatched at her robe and hair. "Go away!" she screamed.

"Leave her alone!" a voice cried out.

At once, Destiny and the three ghosts looked at the man who had cried out. The spirit was standing by a ramshackle hearse buggy that had been parked in the cemetery. He squared his shoulders, glared at the grotesque ghouls and pushed his rectangular spectacles up the bridge of his nose. "Unhand her this instant!" he demanded in a thick English accent.

"Oh, it's just Dustin," snarled a ghost that was clutching Destiny's arm. "Don't you have some tea to chug, limey?" Dustin pushed his top hat forward and marched towards them. "Oh, we're _so _scared."

Dustin grabbed the ghost by his collar. "Get your claws off her, you wastes of ectoplasm, or I will report your behavior to Mr. Gracey _after _I've crammed you back down into your little graves. Got it?"

The ghost scoffed. "Geeze, calm down, Dustin. We were only having some fun." He turned to his comrades. "Let's go." They skulked away, grumbling to themselves.

Destiny cleared her throat. "Thanks for jumping in like that."

Dustin smiled shyly. "It was no problem at all. They're just a few delinquents that needed to be put in their place." He looked down and cleared his throat nervously. "If you are not in need of anything else, I'll let you get on your way, Ms…"

"Chalmers, Destiny Chalmers. And you are?"

"Dustin T. Dust." He paused. "Well, actually, that's not my real name. It's a pseudonym I was buried with. I mean, my first name really is Dustin, but the 'T. Dust' is completely false. I forgot my real last name years ago." He faltered for a moment. "That's kind of pathetic isn't it, forgetting your own name? What kind of…" He noticed that Destiny was grinning. "I'm babbling, aren't I?'

Destiny laughed. "Just a little." She studied him for a moment and smiled thoughtfully. "Haven't I seen you before?" With an arched eyebrow, she smirked playfully. "You were the one who snuck into my room."

"Oh, that," he said with a nervous chuckle. He scratched the back of his head. "I can explain that. You see," he began. He was interrupted as a young woman in a formal dress and bonnet glided over to him.

"There you are, Dustin," she said brightly. "Asher and I have been looking all over for you." Her accent was lighter than his, but she spoke so quickly it was hard to understand her. "Well actually, Asher hasn't been looking for you, but we all know he's a lazy bum." She turned to Destiny. "Why, hello! I'm Bea."

Destiny held out her hand. "I'm Destiny."

Bea grabbed Destiny's hand and shook it enthusiastically, nearly causing the mortal to lose her balance. "I take it you've already met my brother Dustin. Isn't he a cutie?" She pinched one of his cheeks.

"Bea," he hissed.

"And single, too."

"Bea!"

Bea grinned impishly. "So, it was her brassier you grabbed, was it?" She giggled as a look of embarrassment washed over his face. "Oh, I'm only teasing. I don't know why you were so bloody ashamed."

To Destiny, she said, "It's great to finally meet you. Do you think you'll liven the old mansion up a bit? You know, make it homier? The house just seems so _dreary_, far too depressing for my tastes."

"I don't know if I'm going to do much with it, other than light house cleaning," Destiny admitted.

"Speaking of light house cleaning," Bea continued, "I heard about what you and that young man did for Mr. Gracey. That was very considerate of you. All the dead really ask for is some respect and dignity."

"Dignity this!" a voice cried out as a teacup flew through Bea's torso. She whirled around, seething with anger. Destiny followed her glare to see a man just a few years younger than Dustin. Judging the facial features and his accent, she surmised that he was another sibling.

"Asher!" Bea screamed at the guffawing, stocky young man. "If you throw another teacup at me, I'm going to shove that teapot so far up your arse--"

"Uh, uh, temper temper," Asher taunted, wagging a finger. "Father always told you to watch your language. Besides, I'd like to see you try it, brat!"

Bea huffed and stomped towards him. "I'm going to make you wish you stayed in your coffin!"

Dustin tuned out their arguing and turned his attention to Destiny. "I'm sorry, where were we?"

"You were explaining what you were doing in my bedroom."

"Oh, right. I took a wrong turn and floated through the wrong wall. Not much to it, I'm afraid." His smile diminished. "I'm terribly sorry about picking up your," he faltered for the right way to phrase it, "undergarment. Under most circumstances I wouldn't have done such a thing, but I wasn't thinking very clearly."

_Poor guy seems to be a jumble of nerves and guilt, _Destiny thought. Out loud she said, "Don't worry about it, it's no big deal." She shivered. "Would you like to continue this conversation inside? It's getting too cold out here for me."

Dustin cast a wary glance over the mansion.

"Are you okay?" Mentally, she added, _You know, other than being dead? _

Dustin looked back at her. "Oh, uh, yes. I'm quite all right. Let's go inside." He held the door open for her, wearing an uneasy grimace.


	15. Dustin's Tale

Chapter Fourteen

The grandfather clock _tick-tocked _ominously in the hall as Destiny and Dustin walked into the foyer. Dustin cast his bespectacled eyes nervously over the room as Destiny turned on a lamp that was placed on the table between the loveseat and the sofa.

"Spooky, isn't it?" Destiny asked as she plopped down on the loveseat. Dustin's bravery seemed to have vanished, replaced by a fearful curiosity. The spirit timidly sat down on the sofa, carefully, taking in his surroundings.

"Just a little," he said with a smile. He took off his top hat and coat and placed them beside him. "If you don't mind my asking, why would you choose to live here, Ms. Chalmers?"

"Call me Destiny," she said nonchalantly. "The mansion was cheap, there are no roaches, and it's far from the city." She shuddered at the memory of her old apartment. "Why, is there some sort of curse on the house?" she asked with a grin.

Dustin folded his hands on his lap and stared down at them for a moment, frowning thoughtfully. "That's difficult to tell," he finally said as he looked up. "You see, not only have so many people died here, but ghosts are drawn to this place, and once they come here, they can't leave. We can't even cross over. Some try to get away by hitching rides with passing motorists, but they're pulled back within an hour. It's like…" He paused and thought about it for a moment. "It's like…"

"A rubber band?" Destiny suggested.

He nodded. "Quite. You can get a good distance away for a short amount of time before you're snapped back. It's not pleasant at all." He sighed.

Destiny bit her lower lip, unsure of what to say. "How," she finally managed to ask, "did you get here?"

"I died here, in the graveyard actually. Amelia had planned the annual Gracey Halloween party. Have you met Amelia?"

Destiny nodded. "George's aunt, right?"

"Yes. Well, my brother Asher was invited since he worked very closely with George at his law firm. I was a friend of Amelia's and of George's wife Lily, so I got an invitation as well, and everyone just adored my little sister, so naturally we brought her along.

"That Halloween, 1927 if I recall correctly, Amelia decided to have a tea party in the graveyard. We would all dress up and would wear nametags with silly names. Asher was Asher T. Ashes, I became Dustin T. Dust, and Bea was dubbed Bea Witch. At midnight we were supposed to reveal what our real names were. Since I made my living as a cabdriver, I thought it would be funny if I dressed as a coachman. I had managed to rent an old hearse buggy. Asher would dress like a corpse and hide in a coffin in the back." He suddenly became very somber.

"The evening didn't go exactly as planned. Asher, as usual, had a few too many drinks, and he started arguing with me about something; I can't even remember what it was about now. We stopped screaming at each other for our sister's sake. He got into the back of the hearse and, in my anger, I just slammed the back doors shut without locking them. Everything was fine until we got to the cemetery. Then something spooked the horse and he took off. Luckily, the carriage became stuck in the mud before anybody was hurt. The back doors flew open and the casket slid out." He smiled at the memory. "Everyone thought it was all part of the act and it was a huge hit at the party. Drinks were poured and passed around and the guests were playing and dancing. The Graceys hadn't arrived yet."

"Fashionably late?" asked Destiny.

Dustin looked up at her, his expression a mix of pain and regret. "No, George and Lily were still mourning the loss of their child. He refused to come outside, so Lily and Amelia stayed with him. Meanwhile, the guests had been talking about the odd flavor of the tea and some were complaining about stomach pains and dizziness. I wasn't feeling so good myself. But no one dared to go inside and complain to our hostess.

"I had agreed to take some people home early and I was trying to push the buggy out of the mud when I heard my sister scream. Asher was dead by the time I got to them, and Bea was becoming violently ill." He took in a deep breath and blinked away some tears that had welled up in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said with a pathetic chuckle. "You'd think after so many years this stuff wouldn't bother you anymore. Every time I try to sleep, I see their faces, how they were contorted in agony, and how pale they looked." He blinked again and cleared his throat. "I called out for someone to help, but everyone around me was vomiting and collapsing and screaming. I picked Bea up and ran for the house. Then, my vision started to blur and my legs buckled underneath me…

"By the stroke of midnight, all the guests were dead."

"How?" Destiny's voice was barely above a whisper.

"The water used to make the tea was contaminated. George felt so horrible that he paid for the funeral expenses. Amelia hadn't kept a guest list, so those of us who couldn't be properly identified, like my siblings and I, were buried in the family cemetery under the pseudonyms. Since then, we can't remember what our real names are." He looked into the fireplace and stared at the flames. "The worst thing about this is that, being the oldest in the family, I was supposed to protect my younger siblings. I failed."

"You didn't fail," Destiny said, suddenly feeling heartsick for the ghost. "You did what you could, and you had no control over what happened." She reached her hand out to pat his, and her fingertips went right through. "Sorry," she said with an awkward grimace. She pulled her hand away.

"It's no big deal, as you say," he said with an embarrassed chuckle. "You have to warn me first." His hand became somewhat solid and he gave her hand a soft squeeze. Then his hand was transparent again and she could feel the usual, cold, and near-nothingness of a ghost. "I appreciate the sentiment though. You're the first person I've told about my death. It's great to have someone I can really…"

"Talk to?"

"Yeah." He studied her face for a moment, and then glanced at the portrait of George hanging above the foyer's fireplace. "It couldn't be, after all these years," he whispered.

"What?" asked Destiny. She scowled at the painting. "Something about him has been bothering me since I got here."

"Perhaps…" said Dustin slowly. He shook his head. Hastily he added, "I'm sorry for keeping you up so late, Destiny. Good night." He grabbed his coat and hat.

"But what--"

He vanished.

"Good night, Dustin," Destiny said with a sigh.


	16. Breakfast at Destiny's

Chapter Fifteen

_She could smell the smoke and feel it burning her nostrils. The flames on the old house soared into the night sky. The heat made everything hazy and she had to strain to see._

"_Daddy?"_

_He never came out._

"_Daddy!"_

_With a thunderous crash the roof collapsed. As she was dragged away, she could hear the crackling of the burning wood…_

Destiny woke up in a cold sweat. She trembled and waited for her heart beat to slow down to its normal rhythm. She glanced at the clock and groaned softly. _Nine. Might as well get up. _She knew that if she tried to go back to sleep, the nightmare would resume, just like it always did. After wiping the sleep out of her eyes, she tossed the blankets aside, stumbled out of bed, made a mental note to make the bed later, and got dressed.

As she opened her bedroom door, she could hear crackling and the scent of something burning. Panic rose in her chest and she flung the door open and raced toward the source. She came to an abrupt halt in front of the kitchen door. The smell, she realized, was bacon and the crackling was the meat cooking . She was also aware of somebody humming and singing to himself.

_Who on Earth could that be?_ She gently pushed the door open and saw Dustin at the stove. The ghost was not wearing his usual coat and top hat. Instead he had on a mauve vest, a long sleeved white shirt, and a blue tie, the bottom half of which was tucked underneath his vest. He was humming "God Save the Queen" as he began to prepare scrambled eggs.

He had not noticed Destiny, who was still standing in the doorway. She tried to suppress chuckles as she cleared her throat. "Good morning, Dustin."

He looked up with a start. "Oh, good morning, Destiny. I was just fixing breakfast."

"I can see that," she said with a grin. "Why?"

"I felt terrible about just disappearing last night during our conversation, and you strike me as the sort of woman who probably doesn't usually eat a nice, home cooked breakfast."

She arched an eyebrow, as if to ask, "How'd you come up with an idea like that?"

He suddenly had the feeling he had said something horribly wrong. "It's not that you're too skinny. I mean, you are thin, but it's a pretty thin, not a 'starved yourself for two weeks thin'. I can tell you're healthy and all, but…" He trailed off. "Can I start over?"

Destiny laughed. "I get what you're trying to say. And no, I normally don't eat breakfast. Either I'm too busy getting ready for work or I'm too lazy to cook. When I do cook, it's inedible anyway." He offered her a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. "Thanks. Um." She stared down at her plate. "I feel rude eating in front of you."

"Don't worry about it," he said with a wave of his hand. "You get used to the whole 'not eating thing' after seventy-six years." He followed her to the kitchen table and sat down across from her.

"Wow, you have been stuck here a long time. I remember you said you had died in twenty-seven, but I didn't do the math." She bit her lower lip. "It must be horrible."

He shrugged. "You get used to it. It's not like I'm alone, either. I've made a few friends with the other ghosts over the years, and I think things will be a lot more interesting with you around."

She smiled. "Oh, trust me, I'm a very boring person." She chewed the eggs thoughtfully. "These are great. How did you get to be such a good cook?"

He grinned. "Thank you. You see, growing up, I was the one in charge while my parents we away at work. So I had to learn how to cook for my siblings at an early age. It became something of a hobby of mine when I was a young boy."

"Your wife must have loved that."

He blinked in surprise. "Never married."

"A sweet guy like you? I find that hard to believe."

He shrugged. "Believe it. I was more concerned with making money at the time. A cab driver doesn't bring in much to begin with, add that to the fact that mum and dad didn't leave us much when they died, and I had paid for our passage to the States. Not to mention medical expenses for me and my brother after the Great War."

"You were in World War One?" she asked in disbelief.

He nodded. "I was eighteen, Asher was sixteen, so of course we were shipped off to Paris. Certainly not the best time of my life," he muttered.

Destiny could picture the wiry young man--his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose, lying in a trench with shells raining down all around him, praying for the war to end. He was not a coward, but he didn't seem to be the type to fight, either. Then she realized what amazing strength of character he must have to be so good-natured after going through that ordeal.

She stared down at her empty plate. _He'_s _a sweet guy and a good cook. _Struggling, she tried to think of something to say. Feeling embarrassed, the best she could come up with was, "That was pretty much the last of the breakfast type food, wasn't it?"

Dustin seemed to be lost in thoughts of his own. "Hmm? Oh, right, yes. Nothing left, really."

"I'm going to have to make a quick run to the store." She got up and stuck her plate in the sink. She was on her way to the front door when Dustin jumped up.

"Wait," he cried out, a hand raised. "I really have to talk to you. It's very important."

She looked at the spirit. He was giving her a pleading stare, and the anxious expression on his face convinced her that whatever he wanted to tell her wasn't just idle chit chat. "Why don't you ride with me?" she asked. "We can talk on the way. I should be back before you end up being snapped back."

His face lit up with a smile. "Sounds like a great plan to me." He grabbed his coat and hat from atop a stool by the kitchen door and followed her outside.


	17. Road Trip

Chapter 16

After watching Destiny get into her car, Dustin slowly slid into the passenger seat. The ghost marveled at every little button and accessory. His green eyes grew wide with curiosity, reminding Destiny of a kid on Christmas morning. The spirit put his hands in front of the air conditioner vents, in awe of the little blasts of cool air. Glancing down, he spotted a little lever on the side of the seat. "What does this do?" he asked.

"Moves the seat forward or backward."

Not even waiting for her to finish her explanation, he pulled the lever, moving his seat back several inches. He let out a giddy chuckle as he moved it forward to its original place. "Neat!" He tried to recall the details of the taxi he had driven in the twenties. Surely it couldn't have done nearly as many tasks as Destiny's Focus could.

Dustin watched as she put on her seatbelt. He took his own belt and snapped it in. Destiny laughed as the strap just went through him.

"I guess it was a silly idea," Dustin said with a chuckle. "Who made the car?"

"Ford," she answered as she backed out of the driveway and began the drive down the long dirt road that lead to town.

Dustin's jaw dropped. "That assembly line slave driver is still around?"

Destiny laughed, and then immediately felt bad when she remembered that Dustin had been haunting an ancient mansion for the past seventy-six years. "No, but the company still is. So, what is it you need to talk to me about? You seem worried."

Dustin sighed. "This is very awkward, and I'm afraid I'm not sure how to tell you this without sounding rather strange."

"I'm riding in a car with a ghost, can't be too strange."

"Four ghosts," said a throaty voice from the backseat. Destiny looked up into the rearview mirror. Lounging in the backseat were Ezra, Phineas, and Gus. The three spirits grinned back at her like children who had just gotten away with stealing cookies before dinner. Gus, the one who had spoken, waved shyly at her.

"What are you doing here?" Destiny demanded. "Do you guys have some sort of car fetish that compels you to stow away every time I go for a drive?"

"Aw, can't we just hang out with our favorite gal pal?" asked Phineas. The chubby ghost batted his eyelashes in a vain attempt to look innocent and cute.

"Unless the Brit's got a problem with it," said Ezra with his trademark skeletal grin.

Dustin scowled. "As a matter of fact I…" He paused when he realized the car was no longer moving. Destiny had parked in front of a small grocery store.

"I just need to pick up a few things," she said as she unbuckled her seat belt. She turned on the radio. "Why don't you guys listen to some music and I'll be back before you know it." She got out of the car, but before closing the door, added, "Dustin, you're in charge. I trust you guys not to drive away with my car." She slammed the door and the four dead men watched her walk into the store.

After she was out of sight, Phineas leaned forward and pushed the AM button on the radio. "I hate new music."

Ezra frowned and stretched his skinny arm and pushed the FM button. "I wanna hear new music."

Phineas gave him a hateful glare that only a sibling can give and pushed the AM button. "Old music."

Ezra glared back at him and tapped the dial. "New."

"Old!" Click!

"New!" Click!

"AM!"

"FM!"

Tired of the arguing, Dustin said, "It's just the bloody radio. Can't you two be civil about it?"

"Rock, paper, scissors!" cried Gus enthusiastically.

"Good idea, Gussie," said Phineas. "On the count of three…"

"You know I always win," Ezra sneered. "One, two, three, shoot… Ha! Rock breaks scissors! FM!" He changed the radio station, only to hear something far scarier than any ghostly shrieking.

_Girl you know my love is for real,_

_Your kisses are tasty like a Happy Meal!_

_You broke my heart in two,_

_But I can't stop thinking about yooou!_

"This prepubescent crooning is what passes for music now?" Dustin asked with disgust.

Phineas smiled. "Well, Ezra, you won and I know how much you _love _this music."

"Eh, you can change it."

"Oh no, no, no! We'll keep it on the new music you love so much."

Ezra shot him a glare. "I hate you. Really, I do." He sat back and crossed his arms. After nearly a minute of silence, he said, "Say, what sort of features do you think this baby has? Dust, you're up front. Push some of those buttons."

"Oh now, that's just childish," said Dustin.

"I dare you to push the one labeled 'CD'."

"You really want me to get in trouble don't you? I'm not going to do it."

Phineas, Ezra, and Gus clucked like chickens.

"You immature, little…" He huffed. "Fine, if it makes you happy." He slowly, tentatively pushed the little button with the letters CD on it. Squirrel Nut Zippers' "Hell" blared.

"Finally, some decent music," said Ezra. "Say, I wonder what that button does."

Dustin crossed his arms and shook his head and tried very hard to resist the temptation. "No, I'm not going to do it!"

* * *

Meanwhile, Destiny was comparing cereal prices. "Boo Berry or Count Chocula?" she murmured thoughtfully. She was interrupted as an announcement was made over the store's intercom.

"Will the owner of the blue Ford Focus please check your car. Your lights are on…and your windows are going up and down … and your little suction-cup Garfield is crawling up the window."

* * *

"I trusted you guys! Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was?" Destiny fumed as she drove back to the mansion.

"Dustin was in charge," quipped Phineas, eager to lay the blame on someone else.

Destiny sighed and decided to drop it. "Dustin, what was it you wanted to tell me?"

"Uh." Dustin glanced at the backseat. "I'll tell you later."

Phineas, Ezra, and Gus snickered. Gus puckered his lips and made loud kissing noises.

"What?" cried Destiny, clearly shocked by the suggestion.

Dustin shook his head and let out a frustrated sigh. "It's about George. I mean, it isn't exactly about George, but it kind of has to do with him in the sense that he plays a main role in…" Dustin stopped. He closed his eyes and shook his head as if he'd suddenly felt very dizzy. After a quick glance at the car's clock, he said, "It's been an hour. We're being pulled back." He stared down at his transparent hands as they rapidly became invisible.

"Finally get to go for a ride and--" Ezra didn't get to finish his gripe before he and his two friends vanished.

"It was fun to finally go somewhere, even if it was for such a short time," Dustin said in a wistful, almost sad way. "I'll see you at the house." With that, he was gone.

For the rest of the drive, Destiny pondered if there was any way to break a curse.

* * *

A/N: Yes, I wrote those cheesy boy band lyrics. I don't own Boo Berry or Count Chocula. But I do love them so very, very much. 


	18. Family Ties

Chapter Seventeen

Dustin was waiting for Destiny on the front porch when she arrived. "Let me help you with those," he said as he took a bag of groceries from her. He followed her into the house and to the kitchen. After they put the paper bags on the counter, Destiny said, "I wish all the ghosts here were as helpful as you."

"All part of being a gentleman, Ms. Chalmers." Destiny opened one of the cabinets and they started putting away various boxes and cans of food. "I'm sorry about messing with the car appliances," Dustin apologized sheepishly. "My curiosity got the better of me." Then he added, "And Ezra wouldn't shut up."

Destiny smiled. "I shouldn't have gotten so mad earlier, and I understand how you feel, especially since you've been cooped up here for so many years." She shut the cabinet and leaned against the counter. "So, what is it you need to tell me?"

Dustin took in a deep breath nervously. "George's portrait looks…He…Do you notice any resemblances?" he managed to stammer. "Between you two? It's really uncanny when you think about it."

"Yeah, I've noticed." Her smile became a thoughtful scowl. "It's disturbing." She crossed her arms over her chest. Peering at the anxious ghost, she demanded, "Why?"

"A couple of days before I died," Dustin began, "I was called by George's wife, Lily, to drop their newborn daughter off at an orphanage. George was away on a business trip when it happened, and my understanding is that Lily and Amelia told him the child was stillborn. The poor man was heart broken and I've felt guilty about it ever since."

Destiny arched an eyebrow. "Wait," she said with a nervous chuckle, "you're not suggesting--"

Suddenly Dustin was flung back as if something had leapt on him. George slowly appeared, his hands around Dustin's throat. "Why?" he screamed furiously. "Why did you take my baby away?"

"You--you don't understand," Dustin rasped. Rather than vanish or put up a fight, he pleaded, "Please, listen for a moment!"

Anger flaring, Destiny stepped between them. Failing to act as a barrier because George's arms just went through her face, she cried, "Strangling an already dead man is not going to accomplish anything!"

"Georgie stop!"

Destiny, George, and Dustin turned to look as Amelia ran through the kitchen door. The plump redhead looked at the bewildered George and then at the terrified Dustin. "Let the poor boy go! It's not his fault." Dustin gave her a grateful smile as George took his hands off his throat. Amelia let out a sigh of relief. "Dear, listen for a moment. It was Lily's decision. She didn't want the baby to live here, and we knew she would be safe if we got her out of the mansion. Do you understand?" Amelia's voice cracked as a sob rose in her throat. "Lily loved that baby every bit as much as you did, that's why we asked Dustin to take her to the orphanage."

"You loved her, so you took her away?" George shouted, shaking with rage.

"She would have died here and she would have been trapped just like all of us! You wouldn't have wanted that, would you?"

"No," he admitted feebly. "But--but to just get rid of her…" George looked as if he was about to cry. He shut his eyes for a moment, and then stared down numbly at the floor.

"We did it to save her soul. You weren't there when those curses were uttered on Lily. You didn't hear the threats that were made. If we thought, for one moment, that that witch was joking, we wouldn't have done it." Raising her quivering voice, she added, "And you were too caught up in your little obsessions to notice anything was wrong!" Then, with tears streaming down her cheeks she hugged him. "I'm so sorry, honey."

George nodded gravely, finding it too difficult to speak the truth. Dustin put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm truly sorry, Mr. Gracey. I would have told you years ago, but Lily made me swear not to. There isn't a single person here who would go back on a promise made to her."

"I just hope she was taken into a good home and had a good life," whispered George.

Dustin smiled. "You should ask Destiny."

"Wha'?" Destiny murmured. Right now she wanted nothing more than to step away from this soap opera of the deceased.

"George," said Dustin proudly, as if he had figured out a riddle that had been unsolved for centuries, "Destiny is your great-granddaughter!"

_Thump!_

"Of course, I'm just guessing the amount of generations that have come since, but…Destiny?" Dustin knelt down by her unconscious body. "Ms. Chalmers?" He gently shook her shoulder. "Drat, she's fainted. George, help me put her on the couch. George? Oh, not you, too!"

* * *

Destiny groaned and opened her eyes. Slowly, her vision slowly came into focus. She was lying on the couch in the foyer with George, Amelia, and Dustin standing around her. "Are you all right?" asked Dustin.

"I think so." She winced at the sudden headache and the pain on the back of her head. "What happened?"

"You fainted," said George, who looked as if he had woken up just seconds before her. He smiled and his blue eyes brightened. "Would you believe it? You, my great granddaughter? It's a small world after all."

"Now, we shouldn't jump to conclusions, dear," Amelia warned.

"He's right," said Destiny as she gingerly sat up. "It's not just the similarities, either. When I was a little girl, my grandmother brought me to this house and put a rose on George's grave. She never told me why, but it proves that she knew she was adopted and knew who her real parents were. I got a photo album I'll dig up later."

The ringing of her cell phone interrupted her. She tried to ignore it. "It's just odd that--" It rang twice more. With a sigh and a trace of guilt, she said, "Just one sec guys." She took the phone out of her pocket. "Destiny Chalmers…" She clamped her hand over the receiver. "I'm really sorry, but it's work stuff. I'll get that album for you when I'm done." She gave them an apologetic grin and departed to her bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

"Do you know what this means?" Amelia asked, clapping her hands together. She didn't wait for an answer. "We should throw a party!" George rolled his eyes as she grabbed his arm and dragged him away. "Let's start setting up decorations in the ballroom."

Dustin chuckled as he watched them vanish in the hallway. An uncomfortable feeling washed over him. As usual, he felt out of place. More than anything he wanted that feeling to go away.

Well, almost more than anything…

He was startled as someone knocked on the door, pounding out the tune of "Hakuna Matata." "Destiny?" a male voice called out. "I know you're home; your car's parked outside."

With a scowl, Dustin got up and opened the door, his annoyance making him momentarily forget ghost physics. A young man, hardly past his early twenties, stood on the porch. Dustin suddenly realized he'd made a mistake and hoped that the man couldn't see him and would run away at the sight of a door opening by itself. He was just about to slam the door when the man said, "Hey, is Destiny in?"

Dustin blinked several times in surprise. "Yes, but--"

"Great, I need to take some pictures." The stranger walked briskly inside, his left shoulder going though Dustin.

"You can't just barge in here, uninvited!"

"Destiny will understand. She knows I'm writing reports on the mansion." He tossed his fedora through Dustin's forehead and onto the hat stand. "I'm Koji Wendell. Who're you?"

"Dustin T. Dust."

A smile slowly crept across Koji's face. "You're kidding?"

With a very serious scowl, Dustin said, "No."

"Sorry. Don't be such a stiff."

"Listen _Koh-Gee_, Ms. Chalmers is taking a very important phone call, so you need to leave!"

"Dustin, you know that's not how we treat guests," Phineas said as he appeared beside Koji. Ezra and Gus appeared on Koji's other side.

"Admit it, Kujo, you missed me," said Ezra, putting an arm around Koji's shoulders.

"Can't you three go somewhere else?" asked Koji. "Like, I dunno, hell maybe?" He shrugged them off and walked over to the hidden panel in the foyer wall. With a little bit of difficulty, he slid open the hidden door and walked into the gallery. "I think…" he said as he inspected the gallery walls.

"What do you know?" said Ezra, grinning. "His IQ _is _in the double digits."

Koji ignored him. "I think there's another hidden door in here." He tapped the walls with his knuckle until he found a hollow spot. "Aha!" He yanked open the second door. After a cloud of dust cleared, Koji admired his work. It was an entry to a narrow, wooden staircase. He took a small flashlight out of his pocket and turned it on, shining the thin bear of light over the stairs.

The four ghosts walked into the gallery and peered over Koji's shoulder. "Where do you suppose it leads?" asked Dustin quietly.

"We're gonna find out," said Koji with a grin as he started to ascend the stairs.

Phineas looked over at Ezra and shrugged.

"Ain't got nothing better to do," said Ezra, and he, Phineas, and Gus followed Koji up the stairs.

Dustin lingered in the gallery and looked over the large portraits that hung on the walls. His bespectacled eyes stopped on a particular painting, a cobweb covered image of a young woman. "Lily?"

"Are you coming Dust-bin?" Koji called.

"Yeah, and it's Dustin, _Koh-Gee_!" His curiosity and want to keep an eye on the paranormal investigator overpowered his urge to tell Destiny the young man was in the house. With a groan, he dashed up the stairs.

Had he stayed for a moment longer, he would have heard a voice whisper softly, "Please don't go!"

* * *

A/N: So, what did you think? Did you expect it? Was it a surprise? Too dramatic? Whichever it was, I hope you enjoyed it! Stay tuned for the next update, coming soon. 


	19. Deepest Desires

Chapter Eighteen

The narrow staircase was very short, no more than fifteen feet long. At the end of it was a small door that looked as if it had not been opened in nearly a hundred years. The wood was cracked and faded and the doorknob was tarnished and in serious need of a polish. The five men's only source of light, the weak beam from Koji's puny flashlight, was flicking; it's death throes giving them the message that the battery was about to expire. Koji stared at the shabby door, as if waiting for it to be suddenly flung open by a ravenous beast. The four ghosts anxiously crowded behind the paranormal investigator and waited for him to make a move.

"My basic understanding," said Dustin slowly to Koji in a hushed tone, "is that one reaches his hand forward, grasps the knob, and then turns it to open the closed door. Pretty bloody brilliant concept if you ask me."

"Shut up!" Koji snapped.

Gus stepped forward nervously, as if he was afraid of what could be contained within the closed room. He tugged on the end of his long beard and hissed, "Bad feeling. We need to leave."

"I'm agreeing with the midget on this one," whispered Ezra. "I've really got a nasty feeling in my gut, or whatever it is ghosts have that constitutes for a gut."

"Who's the chicken now?" asked Dustin.

"Hey, we were just kiddin' around earlier," said Ezra harshly, "but this…this is _bad. _For once, I'm not playing around. Don't tell me you're not getting some bad juju off this place."

Dustin shuddered. Doing this _was _against his better judgment. "Maybe we should ask Mr. Gracey about this first. It is his home, he probably knows about the hidden room."

"Relax," said Koji. "You're already dead, nothing can hurt you."

"Except holy water," Phineas quipped. Ezra reenacted his dramatic "death" and he, Phineas, and Gus burst out into fits of laughter.

Koji pouted. "Yeah, let's all have a good laugh at my expense."

"Aw, we should be nicer, guys," Phineas said kindly. He put a hand on Koji's shoulder and smiled. "Or he'll fling more holy water on us!"

The paranormal investigator rolled his dark eyes and huffed as the ghosts guffawed. Then, he licked his dry lips, gripped the ancient knob with his clammy hand, and opened the door.

Before them was a modest, dark room. A small, round table with a velvet, high backed chair next to it sat in the very center. Scattered in the corners of the room were square pillows, blankets, and throw rugs. A raven was perched on the back of the chair, peering at them with ebony, beady eyes. It flapped its wings and screeched at the newcomers.

The door slammed behind them, forcing Koji further into the room. On top of the table was a round object, but due to a silk cloth that was spread on top of it, it was impossible to tell what it was. A bright green glow emanated from underneath the silk.

Koji stepped towards it.

"I'm getting a very strange case of deja-vu," Phineas whispered. "We should leave. Right now."

Koji continued on, seemingly hypnotized by the light. He approached the table and reached for the cloth, but before he could so much as touch it, the raven sprang from its perch. It gripped the silk in its talons and dropped it on the back of the chair, where it returned.

"Okay," said Koji, "that was freaky." He stared at the object on the table. It was a large crystal ball, filled with green mist. A second later, the mist cleared and a woman's head appeared. It had belonged to a Creole woman in her early forties or possibly late thirties. Her eyes were shut and her long, black hair swirled around her face.

Koji gulped. When he felt an icy hand touch his shoulder he shrieked. "Aaah! Phineas don't do that!"

"Koji screams like a girl," Gus said and giggled.

"Koji," Phineas hissed urgently, "we need to leave. This is not someone you want to cross. I've got personal experience here." Ezra nodded in agreement.

"I'm all for leaving if you chaps are," said Dustin pleasantly. "Besides, if Miss Chalmers finds out you're here—" Dustin began.

Koji scoffed. "You need to quit worrying, Dust. So," he tapped the crystal ball, "who's the floating head?"

The head opened her eyes.

Phineas, Ezra, and Gus screamed.

"I'm Madam Leota," she said with dramatic flair. "Speaker to the spirit world, seer of the future, and reader of minds."

"Now you've done it," snapped Ezra. "You've woken up the witch!"

"You're a witch?" asked Koji, amazed.

"An evil witch!" cried Gus.

Leota's nostrils flared and she scoffed. "Evil? Humph. If I was an evil witch, I wouldn't put up with being stuck in here for an eternity."

"Hmm." Koji walked around the table. "I've grown up with fortune tellers and psychics." He placed his hands on the table and stared at her, eye-to-eye. "You strike me as one of those 'mirrors and smoke and projectors' types."

"If you're suggesting I'm some sort of side-show fraud, Mr. Wendell, you are sorely mistaken."

"Okay, you know my name. That's pretty impressive. What else can you do?" He stood back, suddenly not wanting to be so close to her face.

Leota smiled wickedly. "I can show you your innermost desires."

"Wouldn't we already know what those are?" asked Dustin nervously. Leota turned and stared at him. A shudder ran through him. Now _he _had a strange feeling of deja-vu. He had seen that cruel smile and those same venomous eyes before. _But where? _ And he suddenly remembered.

He had seen her right before he died. Before he had collapsed, he had looked up at the mansion. She had been standing at a window, watching the entire scene, with that same wicked smile on her face.

Dustin didn't say anything. Instead he chose to stare at the floor.

"Some people," Leota began, "do know what they want more than anything else in the world. However," she lowered her voice, "they may be so disgusted with themselves that they refuse to acknowledge it."

"Okay, let's go. This should be good for a laugh." Koji grabbed the chair and flipped it so that he was sitting in it backwards.

Leota turned towards him and closed her eyes. "Oh," she said, "very interesting…You want to be as gifted as your parents." The mist in the crystal ball swirled and Leota's head vanished and was replaced by an image of Koji sitting at a table, conducting a séance. "And after all these years, you're still a jealous, angry boy who has yet to forgive them for something they have no hand in." The image disappeared. Leota turned to Ezra.

"Well, Mr. Dobbins, let's see what's underneath that bowler derby." Once again, the green light shifted until it formed a picture… There sat Ezra on a throne. Three bikini-clad supermodels were taking turns feeding him grapes and another model fanned him.

"You're disgusting," said Dustin.

Ezra looked at him and shrugged. "The heart wants what the heart wants."

Madam Leota sighed. "Okay, let's see what Phineas—Oh brother!"

A huge sub sandwich appeared in the crystal ball.

"I miss eating!" Phineas sobbed.

"On to Gus Gracey… I'm not going near that! You have one too many issues. Well, maybe there's some promise in…_Dustin."_

Dustin had prayed that she would completely forget about him. Oh, why didn't he just run out of the room? "Uh, I really don't want to know what my innermost desire is."

The crystal ball became cloudy and the green fog swirled. When it settled, it depicted Dustin. But, instead of the slightly blue, transparent, ghostly Dustin, it showed him…

"Alive?" asked Koji. "You want to be alive? Why?"

"Exactly what I was wondering," said Leota with a mischievous chuckle. "Why would poor Dustin want to be alive, hmm?" As the picture began to change again, Dustin took off his transparent top hat and thrust it over the crystal ball in an attempt to block anybody's view. Just as the outcome formed, George stormed into the room. And he looked furious.


	20. A Little Chat with Leota

Chapter Nineteen

"What," George bellowed, "are you doing in here?" The ghost was trembling with rage. "That door is boarded up for a reason!" He pointed to a large door on the side if the room opposite from the entrance Koji and the others had used. Around the frame and sticking through the door were the pointed tips of long, rusted nails.

"We didn't come in that way," said Koji.

"Well, that's obvious, isn't it?" George snapped. His eyes blazed with fury as he took a step towards Koji.

In response, Koji took several steps back. He had never seen the smug, collected Master Gracey so angry. "I found this hidden entrance in the gallery. You owned the house, how could you not know about it?" He chuckled nervously. "I…I don't know what—"

"Get out now!" With a scowl, George watched Koji scramble for the door he had entered. "And you three," he said, looking directly at Ezra, Phineas, and Gus, "I will speak to you later. Go, and take Dustin with you."

Without a word, the four ghosts vanished. Before Koji left, he took a small camera out of his pocket and snapped a couple of pictures.

In his anger, George had not even noticed Koji taking the photographs, and if Leota had, she didn't say anything.

"Oh, George," Leota gushed in her raspy voice, "it's been a long time since you've visited me. What has it been? Ten, twenty, sixty years?" Her usual cool, calculating demeanor was gone, replaced by hatred. With her frustrated scream, the green mists in the crystal ball swirled around her face like a miniature hurricane, fanning out her black hair. Her irises and pupils disappeared and her eyes filled with sickly green light. George had to admit given her limited space and power it was an interesting effect. He simply waited for her to finish her tantrum, one of many he had witnessed in his life and afterlife.

The small gales within the crystal ball died down and Leota's eyes reverted to normal. Her nostrils flared and she took in deep, sharp breaths, as if the tiny burst of magic had taken every once of strength she had. "Do you have any idea how humiliating it is being stuck in this prison?"

George's own rage had subsided. He smiled smugly and sauntered around Leota's mystical cell. "And yet I don't pity you. Why do you suppose that is, hmm?"

"You just wait until I get out! Everyone here will pay!"

"Ooh, I'm shaking in my ectoplasm." He tapped the crystal ball and Leota flinched with every _plink…plink…plink!_

"I've heard about the mortal girl living here, and how sentimental you got over her," she said with a sly smile. "A few of you seem rather fond of, oh, what's her name?" she asked innocently. "Destiny."

George's smirk vanished, replaced with a glare. "What are you getting at?"

"Oh nothing," said Leota nonchalantly, turning her head away from him. "I'm just… making an observation."

"You will not harm or so help me—"

Leota scoffed. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm really not capable of doing much."

"What about your little mind trick? That's not 'doing much'?"

"Oh, please, that was a little parlor trick to shut that brat's mouth. You know my powers have faded away to nearly nothing."

George leaned again the table and held up his right hand and examined his fingernails absentmindedly. "Yes, well, we all know who's fault that is, now don't we?" he asked as he buffed his nails on his tuxedo jacket.

"I wouldn't have stooped to the level I did if you had just named me first in your will!" Leota was frustrated again, and George liked it. For once, he felt he had the upper hand and he couldn't help feeling smug.

"Well," he said with a smile, "you just weren't my first priority anymore."

"And a little girl whom you never actually claimed as your daughter was?" Leota asked condescendingly. "You raised her for five years and then dumped her from one underpaid nanny to another. You know, you're really quite the hypocrite."

George snarled and grabbed the silk cloth off of the back of the chair and tossed it over the crystal ball and stormed out of the room.

* * *

"What are you doing here?" Destiny demanded. She, Ezra, Phineas, Gus, and Dustin were all standing around Koji. She had entered the front room not two minutes ago, and had been shocked to see the young paranormal investigator in her home. Grasped in her right hand was a cane, which she had grabbed the moment she had heard someone of the bodied persuasion scuffling in the foyer.

"Research," Koji answered. "A few pictures, some notes. It's my assignment to document any findings, you know that." He chuckled and smiled in a what's-the-big-deal sort of way. "It's not going to kill anyone."

"You," said Destiny, poking his chest and standing so close to him they were nearly touching noses, "do _not _come into _my _house without _my _permission."

In his defense Koji said, "Dustin let me in."

"Hey," said Dustin sharply, "I just answered the door. This delinquent barged in uninvited even after I told him you were taking an important call."

"And you three," George interrupted as he entered the room, "know better than to enter her chambers, or to even speak to her."

Ezra, Phineas, and Gus snarled indignantly. "We had no idea what the passageway lead to," said Ezra. The spirit's usual skeletal grin was replaced with a frown. "Do you honestly think we would want anything to do with that conniving, murderous, heartless banshee from—" His half- brother Phineas clamped a hand over his mouth.

"Easy, E," Phineas said calmly. He removed his hand and Ezra scowled at him. "We tried to warn geek boy here, but he wouldn't listen and before we could skeedaddle, she had woken up. Me, an' Gus, an' Ezra aren't about to leave some defenseless kid alone with that witch." Gus nodded silently in agreement.

"Who are you talking about? What passageway?" asked Destiny, frustrated that she had been left out of the loop.

"I found a second sliding wall in the gallery," Koji answered excitedly. "It leads to a secret entrance to a room."

"Which you are never to enter again," George reprimanded.

"Why?" demanded Koji. "I feel sorry for Leota. She's just stuck in there and-"

Ezra laughed. "You feel sorry for her? Boy, Leota deserves no ones sympathy! You've got no idea what that woman's done!"

"I would if you would just tell me," groaned Koji.

"Well," said Phineas, "she's single handily responsible for bringing about the deaths of Gus, Ezra, myself." The portly spirit counted off the names on his fingers. "The ghosts that hang out in the ballroom, the tea party guests…"

"But the water was contaminated," Dustin quietly interrupted. "I thought that was just an accident. Some faulty pipe or something." He looked at George hopefully. "Right?"

George shook his head solemnly. "Some relatives of the deceased demanded autopsies. In two bodies there were traces of a man-made, or rather woman-made poison. Leota hated my aunt, and I wouldn't put it past her to kill her innocent friends just to spite her. You didn't know?"

Dustin shook his head.

"I'm sorry."

"It's a little late for apologies."

Phineas decided to continue. "She's also responsible for the death of her own daughter, and Lily, and George's aunt Amelia," he smiled wistfully and then cleared his throat. "And George."

"But you committed suicide." Koji pointed at George.

"I wouldn't have had to if Leota hadn't trapped me in the gallery." George sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Look, just promise you'll never speak of her again."

"Fine," grumbled Koji. Feeling uncomfortable, he added, "You know what, I'll just leave now." He searched the hat stand for his fedora. After not finding it, he said, "That creepy little dead girl took my hat again." He waited a moment then slunk out.

"I'm tired of being kept in the dark about the 'inhabitants' of my home," Destiny said sternly to George. "Who is this woman you keep going on about?"

George looked at the four other ghosts. Ezra was unusually serious. The skinny specter had his jaw clenched in an effort to remain quiet. Phineas was twiddling his thumbs and trying desperately to avoid eye contact. Gus was picking his toenails. Either he too was trying to avoid the topic or he was just once again demonstrating his complete inability to process complex thoughts. Dustin was staring down at the floor; his normally straight posture was slumped, giving him the look of a man whose whole world has just collapsed.

He noticed George and Destiny were watching him. He faked a smile and pulled back his sleeve. Without glancing at his watch, he said, "Tea time. My siblings are always miffed if I'm late. Have a pleasant evening Destiny, George." He nodded to Gus, Phineas, and Ezra. "Hooligans." With a sad smile, he vanished.

"I'm afraid we must speak privately," hissed George. "Come with me to the library."


	21. Lily and Leota

Chapter 20

George pushed on the library doors and they opened with a creaking groan, sounding to Destiny like the yawning of a man who has just awoken from a deep sleep. The library was a large room with towering bookshelves along three walls that rose nearly to the ceiling, crammed with hundreds of dusty volumes. In the center of each wall of shelves was a space reserved for a solemn, eerily lifelike marble bust. The trio of stone heads consisted of an elderly woman with her thin hair pulled back in a tight bun; a very round-faced, wide-eyed and puckering gentleman; and a elderly man with a gaunt, narrow face. Unlike the busts in the graveyard, these three were silent, offering nothing but cold stares. Perhaps it had been just Destiny's imagination, but the white, glaring faces seemed to turn and watch her as she walked past.

"Please, have a seat," said George as he closed the doors. The ghost gestured to a dusty, purple rocking chair. He walked over to a large window and pulled open the red velvet curtains, revealing the family cemetery. With a heavy sigh the dead aristocrat gazed out over the graveyard, mentally preparing what he was going to say.

Destiny sat down in the rocking chair, causing a cloud of dust to float up. She coughed and waved it away with one hand. "So, grandpa," she began, hoping to break what was quickly becoming an awkward silence, "what's the story between you and…whatever her name was?"

After chuckling half-heartedly, he said, "You know that's really bizarre. You calling me grandpa, I mean. I don't think I'll ever get used to it." Sighing again, he turned around to look at the petite brunette. "I met Madam Leota at a carnival in the summer of 1927, the same place where I met my wife Lily just a year before. Lily had been a tightrope walker for the circus and we had gone there so she could see her old friends." He smiled wistfully, reliving the fond memory in his mind. "Afterwards we entered a fortune teller's tent. I had become obsessed with contacting my dead father, and had turned to the occult to find out more about him.

"This tarot reading booth belonged to a Creole gypsy from Louisiana named Madam Leota. She had recently traveled to New England to try and make a living with her unique talents… and had also been chased out of New Orleans by a lynch mob. Apparently, many sought her advice secretly, but the entire town turned on her one day."

Destiny softly hummed a tune and then spoke the words aloud: "Gypsies, tramps, and thieves, we'd hear it from the people of the town…but at night all the men would come around and lay their money down."

George arched an eyebrow curiously. "That's interesting. Whitman?"

"Cher."

"Ah." He cleared his throat and continued. "I was so impressed with her that I asked her to come and live in the mansion as my own private medium. Lily had never liked the idea. The two hated each other." He paused. "Hate's not strong enough. Despised maybe? Loathed? But I digress. Anyway, I was too caught up with my search for my father to really pay attention to their animosity, and despite my wife's insistence to fire Leota, I continued holding séances."

George sat down in a chair beside Destiny's and frowned thoughtfully. "I know now that Lily had been worried that I…" He faltered. "She was worried that I wasn't being faithful to her. Looking back, I suppose I gave her ample reason to, but I never once even thought about betraying her. She was my world, my life, my everything." He exclaimed it with such passion that Destiny felt heartsick for him. "You can imagine the joy I felt when we found out we were going to have a baby.

"When I wasn't around, Leota threatened Lily and our unborn child. I didn't find out about this until after Lily had died. If I had known…" He trailed off, staring into space.

"How did Lily die?" asked Destiny cautiously.

George snapped back to reality. "Several months after our daughter was born…" A look of anguish crossed his face and he closed his eyes to hold back tears. After laying his head in his hands he sobbed. Whether it was because he was thinking of the lie his wife had told him about having a miscarriage when she had really sent the child to an orphanage, or because the memory of her death was so painful, Destiny wasn't sure. She got up from her seat and sat next to him and put an arm around his shoulders, and hugged him as well as she could. This was a bit difficult since he didn't have a body, but Destiny hoped he understood the gesture.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered into his ear. Shaking her head, she sighed. "Look, I shouldn't have asked. It's really none of my business."

"No," he mumbled as he looked up. After wiping away tears he said, "You should know the things Leota's done to our family. She certainly can't do anything now…" _At least I hope not, _he silently added. He cleared his throat and continued. "We were having a party and Lily volunteered to do her old tightrope routine for the guests. I tied a rope to poles on either side of the river, and she got about halfway across before the rope snapped and the crocodile showed up."

Had she not heard the such despair and grief as he spoke, she would have laughed at the sheer bizarreness of the tragedy. Destiny covered her mouth in horror. "Oh my god."

"It just tore her apart before I could even go in after her. No one knows for sure where that thing even came from. Some say it escaped from the sewers."

"You think Leota made that happen?"

"Before I died, she told me she cut the rope while we were all watching Lily." Dazedly, he added, "Lily's portrait is in the gallery. She was such a beautiful woman." He let out a long sigh. "Every day I miss her more."

Destiny shifted uncomfortably. Brow furrowed and eyes cast down, she asked, "Don't you talk to her?"

George shook his head. "I haven't seen her since she died. She's one of the few people I've known who haven't returned as ghosts. It's all for the best though. I would hate to think of her stuck here for an eternity." He sighed. "So, is there anything else you'd like to ask?"

"What about…." _Don't do it Dessie, _she thought, _you are treading on dangerous territory! _Very quickly, she blurted, "What about Little Leota?" Hastily she added, "I know she's your daughter." She winced.

George looked shocked. "Did you know you are the first person to say that to my face?"

"You're dealing with someone who doesn't care about social standing," she replied. "And someone who completely lacks tact." She cleared her throat, pushing away her shame. "You said you didn't have an affair, so why be so secretive?"

He turned his gaze away from her. "No, it wasn't an affair. Lily had been dead for months. I'll admit I was weak minded at the time, and I honestly thought Leota was attracted to me." He folded his hands in his lap and twiddled his thumbs. "She would tell me every day how much she loved me. And I thought I was in love with her too. She seduced me to get her name on my will. And it certainly would have remained as the first if Little Leota hadn't been born."

"You would be giving everything to her when you died, and she didn't even know you're her father?"

"I couldn't tell her! I couldn't tell anyone. Leota and I weren't married, and the event was too taboo. I would have been ruined socially and financially. Do you have any idea how bad it would look for a respected, wealthy, high-class attorney to come forward and admit he had an illegitimate child?"

"Then you shouldn't have—"

"I KNOW I shouldn't have!" he cried as he jumped up. Destiny flinched. Softly, he said, "I was wrong. I was foolish. But I tried to make things right, even though I ultimately didn't do the right thing. Her mother hated her and I tried to make up for it. I taught her, I played with her, and I did everything a father should do. Except tell her the truth."

A small gasp caught their attention. They turned to the ajar library doors. Koji's fedora was lying on the floor, and there was only one other person who would have been wearing it. George and Destiny ran to the door and looked out into the hallway. Little Leota's faint form was vanishing quickly as she hurried down the corridor, her weeping echoing softly.

"L.L. come back!" George called, but the young girl ignored him. He turned to Destiny. "I have to talk to her. I just hope she'll forgive me."

"I'm sorry," Destiny whispered.

"You didn't do anything, Destiny. This is all my fault and it's something I should have cleared up years ago." When Destiny started to follow him out, he said, "I need to do this alone."

She nodded. "I hope everything works out."

"Me too," he sighed before running after the dead girl.


	22. Buggies and Roses

Chapter 21

Destiny looked down the empty corridor and listened as voices and whispers echoed in the darkness tauntingly. She leaned against the doorway, bracing her forehead against the wood panel with a _thunk. Why do I do it? _she thought. _Why can't I keep my mouth shut and stop meddling in the afterlives of dead people?_ With a sigh she closed her eyes.

_Because it distracts you from your own problems, Dessie, _a voice in her mind answered.

Opening her eyes with a start, she lifted up her head and looked around wearily. The speaker certainly had not been her own "mental voice", and nobody knew her nickname. Except for her father. He wasn't in the house, she knew, or at least she hoped. It had made her heartsick that he had not died a peaceful death, and the thought that he might have been forced to roam the earth as a ghost almost made her cry. But the voice, she quickly realized, did not belong to her deceased dad. "I don't know who you are," she muttered, "but stay outta my head." She groaned softly. "Oh God, I'm talking to myself. I just got through having a therapy session with my dead great-grandfather, and I'm talking to myself."

Moonlight poured in through the library window, bathing everything in a silver glow. She walked over to it and looked out at the cemetery, taking in the graves and ghosts. One in particular caught her eye, a spirit with forlorn features who was leaning dejectedly against a hearse buggy, nodding distractedly as another spoke to him. _Poor Dustin, _she thought as she watched him listen to his younger brother with a bored look on his face. At that moment he turned toward the house and spotted her. He gave a short wave with one hand and made incessant mouthing motions with the other as Asher gabbed on.

She couldn't help but smile. Knowing he probably wanted an excuse to get away, she pointed to herself and then to the outside in general as a way to ask, "Would you like me to come out there and save you?" It took him a couple of seconds to get the message, and then he nodded. After giving him a thumbs-up, she left the library.

* * *

"Why don't you have a cup o' tea?" Asher asked from his seat in the coffin. Dustin didn't answer. "I could Irish it up for you, eh? Add a little pep to it." He winked.

"I'm not really in the mood for tea," Dustin finally said. He wasn't about to succumb to Asher's little dream world where ghosts could drink a scotch and tea, (or, in Asher's case, a scotch and tea, hold the tea).

"Not in the mood for tea? What sort o' Englishman are you?"

"One who's quite sick of tea." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Destiny walking around the headstones. "Out for an evening stroll, Miss Chalmers?" he called out. When she approached him, he whispered, "Thank you," into her ear.

She smiled. "No prob." Loud enough for Asher to hear, she asked, "What are you boys up to?"

"We was just 'avin' a chat," said Asher sweetly, but in the sweetness there was something calculating. The stocky young man eyed her critically. "So, it's true, is it? You're the lost, great-granddaughter o' Gracey, eh? The last scion, so to speak?" His lips twitched up into a cockeyed smile.

"I suppose," she muttered. How could someone as charming as Dustin have such a creepy sibling?

"Destiny and I need to talk about…something," Dustin said quickly.

"Right," Destiny concurred slowly, still unnerved by Asher's smile. There was an odd little flicker in his dark eyes that didn't set right with her. "Well, it was nice talking to you, Asher."

"Oh, yes," he said with a curt nod, "same to you, love." He then turned his attention to pouring a cup of tea. Destiny looked as if she was going to point out that he couldn't possibly be able to drink it, but Dustin just shook his head.

"Best not to say anything," he whispered. His eyes darted around nervously for a moment, as if hoping some icebreaker for a conversation would just leap out in front of him. "So," he began, taking in a useless, quick breath, "would you like to go for a ride?" He jerked his thumb back at the hearse. "In the buggy?" he hastily added. "I would like to show you something."

"Sure, but," she looked over the cart, "there's no horse." She gestured to the harnesses. On closer inspection, she realized that it seemed to be floating, but due to the darkness of the evening and the color of the harness, she couldn't tell for sure.

Dustin smiled. "Ah, but that's where you're wrong." He climbed up onto the driver's bench and leaned down to help pull Destiny up. His touch was hardly solid and felt ice-cold, but she grasped his hand with a "Thank you" and sat down next to him. He picked up the reins and clicked his tongue. A horse whinnied loudly, but didn't appear. The harnesses rose unsteadily as if the horse was standing after taking a long nap.

"Rolly's shy," Dustin explained apologetically. "He doesn't materialize very often." To the expired equine, he said, "Time for walkies, boy, giddy up." Rolly snorted, shook his head, and started to plod on. "I have the distinct feeling that I'm forgetting something," Dustin mumbled.

Asher pulled a flask out of his coat pocket and poured its contents into the teacup. He could feel his coffin shifting. "Oi, what's the bloody—" His casket, which had been braced against the back of the hearse, slipped and fell. As it hit the ground, he spilled his flask and cup through him and onto the velvet lining of his mahogany bed. "Bloody 'ell, Dust!"

Dustin looked back and laughed. "Now that's the Asher I know!" He waved to him and Asher, in turn, placed the fist of his right arm in the crook of his left arm and pumped up his left fist. After turning back to Destiny, Dustin said, "He's been acting weird since this morning. We haven't bickered, he didn't pick a fight with our little sister, and he didn't imaginarily get drunk and throw sticks into the spokes Manny Festation's bicycle… Come to think of it, I might like him better this way." He chuckled. "Not much further now."

Destiny leaned back and realized that riding on a hearse, that was being driven by a ghost and was being pulled by an invisible horse, was actually quite relaxing.

* * *

The buggy stopped just outside of the cemetery on a small hill overlooking the Irvine River. A huge full moon peeked over the trees on the opposite bank, casting a shimmering reflection onto the placid water. Bright stars dotted the sky, their constellations much clearer than they had ever been in the city. All around them crickets chirped and fireflies danced and damselflies anxiously darted across the surface of the river in acrobatic attempts to evade the tongues of hungry frogs.

Destiny took this all in with wonder. "It's beautiful," she breathed.

Dustin sighed. "I come here when I want to be alone and think." He stared down at his legs and tapped his fingertips on his knees. "I'm sorry I disappeared earlier, and had I known about—oh, what's-his-name—I wouldn't have opened the door."

"Don't worry about that. Koji's very pushy. I know you tried to stop him." Destiny stared down at her feet. "And I know it must have been harsh earlier, hearing about what actually happened." It was a lame offering, she knew. She clasped her hands and wished she could come up with something better to say. Mentally she kicked herself for being so patronizing. All she had done since she met the ghosts was make their problems worse! Who did she think she was fooling, pretending to have the answers to everything?

Snarling, Dustin suddenly snapped his head up. "I just can't believe my siblings and I were murdered. We didn't even know Leota! That-that witch just took our lives to spite our friend!" he shouted, his soft-spoken nature now replaced by fury. "I had plans for my life, and she just ended it, like that." He snapped his fingers. "All over some petty rivalry." He slumped forward, elbows on his knees, his chin resting on his folded hands. "We didn't deserve this."

"Did you tell Asher and Bea?" Destiny asked quietly, feeling insigificant.

"No. After all these years, they learned to accept death, and thinking it was some bizarre accident made it easier. If they found out what had actually happened, it would crush them. Not to mention Asher would probably storm into the house and try to exact revenge. Not that he could actually do anything." He heaved a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry. I didn't bring you out here so I could scream at you."

"It's okay. Believe me, I know how much it hurts to be betrayed." _Dumb comparison! _Hastily, she added, "I mean, it certainly wasn't to the extent of what you went through, but I've had a tiny taste of what you're feeling."

"I can't imagine somebody wanting to hurt you."

His statement caught her by surprise. "Why?"

"You're kind, understanding, smart, funny…"

"Keep going." She grinned and inspected her fingernails smugly in an imitation of George.

"You stand up for yourself. It's so refreshing to see that in a woman. And..." he looked into her dark brown eyes and the rest of what he wanted to say caught in his throat, "and…" She leaned closer to him. Like so many times before, his tongue refused to work. He wanted to tell her that she was beautiful and that he would give anything to be alive. But instead, his mouth formed the words he had been trying so hard to stay away from. "What…what happened?"

"Oh." She leaned back and stared up at the sky. "Unfaithful fiancée. He was having little rendezvous with my boss. I was dumb. I was just afraid of ending up alone and kept giving him the benefit of the doubt. We got in a fight when I found out. I gave him back the engagement ring and left. I should have pawned it and gotten some cash out of it, but I wanted to do that whole 'class' thing." She sighed. "Unfortunately, I lost my job and when I couldn't turn anywhere else, I wound up filling out an application to work in his business. Come Monday morning, he'll be my new boss and he's personally supervising my project. Can't get much worse than that."

"Sure it could."

"How?"

"You could be dead."

She winced, ashamed. "Sorry."

"I was just trying to joke. Don't feel bad. The whole ghost thing isn't as horrible as it's made out to be, you know. There are advantages." He leaned down and reached into a rosebush. Then he picked one of the flowers and handed it to her. "I can pick roses without having to worry about the thorns."

"Thank you," she said, blushing. "How does that work, anyway?"

"It's ghost physics. There are an awful lot of them. I can't just pick something up. I have to focus my energy into my hands, which can't even completely become solid, and it only lasts for a few moments. Then there's invisibility and teleportation, which is actually quite fun. But…" He trailed off. He decided not to tell her how he always felt homesick or how he always felt cold. Why spoil the mood he had worked so hard to create?

"I'm glad there's someone here I can really talk to," Destiny said. "I feel like I can pour my heart out to you." She pushed a few strands of hair behind her ear shyly. "Silly, huh?"

"Not at all."

They were silent, just watching the stars and listening to the crickets. Destiny scooted closer to him and, feeling drowsy and comfortable, let her common sense slip away and began to lay her head on his shoulder…

WHAP!

And her face met the bench.

"Ouch."

Dustin snapped out of his stargazing. "Oh, bloody hell! I'm so sorry! If I had known you…I'm so sorry!"

Destiny sat up and gingerly rubbed her nose. "My bad, I'm fine, don't worry."

"Sorry, I just need a little bit of warning next time."

"I bet you're taking back the 'smart' comment, aren't you?" They both laughed and continued watching the stars.


	23. Good Morning, Koji

Chapter Twenty-Two

"_Koji…" _The voice said hypnotically. "_You need to wake up, Koji… You're late for work… KOJI!"_ the voice screamed from his answering machine.

"AHH!" Koji's eyes snapped open. He tried to jump out of bed, but instead got his feet tangled in the sheets and fell, face first, onto the floor. Reaching his arm up in the general direction of his bedside table and grasping blindly, he managed to pick up the phone. Still mouth to the carpet, he pulled the phone down to his ear. "Hello? Mom?"

"Hey, honey, I thought I should give you a wake up call."

"Why would I need…" He lifted his head and glanced at his clock. "Yeesh!" Springing up, he grabbed his pants, his phone still tucked between his ear and his shoulder.

Before he could even ask how she knew, Mrs. Wendell said, "A mother always knows, dear."

He managed to pull his jeans up. "Yeah, a psychic mother," he grumbled.

"You sound tired, dear."

"Tossed and turned most of the night. Hardly got a wink of sleep."

"_Bay Watch_ dreams again, huh?"

"Stay out of my head, mom!"

"I was just checking in on you. Honestly dear, how many times does a young man need to be given mouth-to-mouth? Drowning in a dream is usually supposed to be a nightmare…"

"MAH-OM!"

"Sweetie, you know I'm just teasing."

Koji put the phone down for a moment to pull on his shirt, and then picked it back up. "Wait a sec., checking in on me? Why?" He sat on the edge of his bed and put on his right shoe, and then searched around his bed for the left one.

"By the tub, dear."

"Huh?" Just to prove her wrong he walked into his tiny bathroom. Towels that had once been neatly drying on a rack had slid down to the tiled floor."Why would I leave my shoe…" And there it was, by the tub. Getting back to the point of the conversation, he asked, "Why were you tapping into my mind?"

"Your father and I, we just have a…" She trailed off.

"Bad feeling?" Koji suggested.

"Not quite, nothing that strong, anyway. Just be on your toes, Koji."

He grabbed his trench coat off of the back of his office chair and began searching for his car keys.

"Right coat pocket." Mrs. Wendell sighed. "You know what you need?"

"A metal plate implanted in my skull so you'll stop probing my thoughts?"

"No, a girlfriend."

Koji rolled his eyes. "Not this again."

"A sweet girl, like…Lucy. What happened with her?"

"She moved to Antarctica."

"What about Jessica, the girl you dated back in college, the one that gave you a black eye?"

"Moved to Tibet and joined a Buddhist colony."

"Faith?"

"Joined a monastery."

"Kendra?"

He paused this time, unsure exactly how to put it. Kendra was a little harder to explain. "Kendra's now Kenny, mom. Look, I've really got to get going."

"Okay, be careful."

"I will mom."

"I love you."

He smiled. "I love you, too mom. Thanks for the wake up call." He hung up the phone and ran to his car. Already running late, he had to pick up his pictures. After getting his photographs, he tore open the envelope and flipped through them. Suddenly, he felt guilty. He had not exactly asked if he could take those pictures. Glancing back down at the photos, he gasped when he saw the one of George and Leota. They were surprisingly clear and focused, unlike most of the other pictures he took.

With shame nagging at him, the short drive to the Parker Institute for Paranormal Research seemed incredibly long. Even the Sunday morning church traffic seemed heavier than usual. Finally, he arrived, feeling all too prepared for Professor Hahn's lecture on tardiness he was about to receive. He parked in the puny spot he always got that was the farthest from the building. It was a massive white structure with architecture derived more from Southern roots rather than the more usual Dutch Colonial look found in the area. The result was something of an antebellum home, complete with giant stone pillars, that was horribly inappropriate in the New England town. Perhaps, Koji had thought, it stuck out like a sore thumb on purpose. Like the building, Koji always seemed out of place. At twenty-four, he was the youngest person working in the institute. Also, as he had soon learned, he was the only member with any hint of spirit communication abilities. Everyone else he had simply deemed "wannabes".

* * *

"You're late Mr. Wendell."

Koji looked up from his cup of coffee. "I figured that out when I realized the java was ice-cold."

Professor Hahn's hazel eyes glared at him through thick lenses. "Fourth time this month. Let's see, which tire hasn't blown out yet? Front left?"

"Front right. And it wasn't car trouble this time. Overslept." Koji stared back down into the mud colored liquid. "Your beard's coming in nice, sir."

Professor Hahn smiled and rubbed the reddish brown whiskers on his chin. "Oh, thank you." Then he cleared his throat and scowled, not in the least bit distracted by Koji's flattery. "You've been researching the Gracey place for nearly two weeks now, and you have yet to bring back any evidence of paranormal activity."

Koji thought about the pictures in his pocket, but after a twinge of guilt, decided not to bring them up just yet.

"I have had immense patience with you, Koji," the professor began. "You know that we here at the Institute do value your work…"

Koji mentally translated this as: You know you're the only one around here that actually does something useful…

"And you seem to have a knack for these things…"

Translation: I'm not about to admit you're the only person with some sort of sixth sense…

"But you haven't brought back any useful information about Gracey Manor and you've been at it for a couple of weeks."

Subtitle: Unless you bring me videotape clearly showing a ghost, or better yet, bring me a ghost, this case will be closed and you will be given a new assignment.

Koji put his hand in his pocket instinctively as if to grab the pictures, but once again felt ashamed. As he pulled out his hand, he neglected to notice that one of the photographs had clung to his clammy palm. When he pulled his hand out of his pocket, the picture fell to the floor. To Koji, it fell in slow motion. Before he could pick it up, Professor Hahn grabbed it.

"Koji," he said, "what--what is this?" He stared agape at the image of the ghostly George Gracey and the disembodied head in the crystal ball.

The young man tried to snatch it back. "It's nothing, just a doctored photo." He tried once again to grab it, but only succeeded at grasping air as Hahn held it up to the light to get a better look at it.

"It doesn't look likes it has been tampered with. If it has, it's a very good hoax. I can't imagine someone with Photoshop being able to do this. Even the light coming off the crystal ball is reflected perfectly. I'll just run this by the lab. Dr. Gipson will be thrilled to see it."

_No, no, no!_ thought Koji. He had to jog briskly in order to keep up with the older man. "Uh, sir, what happens if the guys in the photo lab think this is real?" He watched, a feeling of panic rising in his chest as the photograph was handed to a frail looking man in a lab coat with thin, dark blond hair. "It's doctored!" Koji cried, but Dr. Gipson had already disappeared into his office.

Professor Hahn seemed confused by this question. "Well, we'll do what we always do. We'll launch a full investigation."

"Uh, what if somebody lives there?"

Hahn paused for a moment to think about it. "He should understand. After all, if my house was haunted, I'd want to know about it and have the ghosts chased out. Besides, I thought the place was deserted."

"It was deserted, until, you know, it was bought. It's in the report, sir. But I really don't think she'll appreciate us barging in there." It took him several seconds to realize what he was saying. _'Oh my God!'_ he thought. _'I care! Why should I care? If this becomes a huge investigation',_ his mind raced, _'the press will get hold of it and—Hey, I could get my picture in the paper! No, no! How would Destiny feel? More importantly, how am I going to feel after she finds out about this? Pretty sore and bruised, I'd imagine!_ "I think a bunch of Ghost Buster geeks in her house is the last thing she'd want right now."

"We'll just explain that it's for her protection. After all, ghosts can be pretty destructive."

That would have been a horrible lie. Koji knew that none of the ghosts, none that he had met anyway, would hurt her. Some, like that four-eyed Brit, seemed protective of Destiny.

A jubilant shout and laugh came from the laboratory. Gipson ran back out of his little office/lab, his thin, pale lips pulled back in a huge grin. "Professor!" he cried. "There is little to no way this could have been faked!" He slapped Koji on the back. "Way to go, Wendell! Another genius find. Man, you never let us down."

"Yep, that's me," muttered Koji. "Ol' reliable."

"Buck up, boy," said Hahn. "We might have found some solid evidence here, and it's all because of you. Good job, Koji."

"When do you plan on sending everyone out?" Gipson asked excitedly, bouncing from one foot to the other in excitement.

"I've got to check my schedule," said Hahn, "but I'm betting on Wednesday. Just think: We might actually make some spirit contact."

Koji tried to fake a smile. "Yeah, heh." '_George's fist is going to make contact with my face! No, he'll probably hand me over to the psycho midget with the bowling ball!'_

"Anything else you've seen there, Koji?"

"No, nothing," he replied glumly. "Uh, if you need me, I'll be in my cubicle." He trudged off, his sneakers dragging on the scuffed tile. _'Stupid! Stupid! If Destiny finds out, she's gonna kill me! But if I don't tell her and these guys just show up on her doorstep… I am a dead man! And I'll probably be stuck in the mansion for eternity with all those ghosts beating the crap out of me up every day!'_

He walked into his tiny office, which was even more cluttered than the one he had at home. With a glance at the picture of his parents on his desk, he asked, "What do I do?"

The phone rang.

He picked it up, knowing whom it was. However, he didn't know whether he should feel relieved, annoyed, or just a little creeped out. "Hi, mom."

"How'd you know?"

"Intuition. Why'd you call?"

"You remember how I told you that your father and I had an anxious feeling?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, it was really strong a few minutes ago, so I was wondering how you were doing."

"Mom," he said, feeling worse than he had in years, "I messed up big time."

* * *

A/N: Professor Hahn and Dr. Gipson are characters I created. They are named after Don Hahn, who produced the Haunted Mansion movie, and imagineer Blaine Gibson. The Parker Institute gets its name from actor Nathaniel Parker.


	24. New Technology

Chapter Twenty-Three

The Gracey Manor foyer was an unusual center of hubbub that Sunday afternoon. Destiny had been out shopping since early that morning and several spirits had rushed in to see what she had bought. Other than a few stylish outfits for work, (which had greatly impressed Bea to no end), Destiny had purchased a used laptop computer. It was a shabby little model, nothing incredibly fast or attractive looking, but all Destiny cared about was that it could get the job done. True, she didn't really have the money to splurge, but something about it made her feel better. It only took a new shirt or skirt to really raise her self-esteem. The laptop would be a necessity for when she had to bring work home.

The house's wiring wasn't in as bad a shape as she thought it would be, and it only took a new socket for a phone jack and an electrical plug and she was ready to plug it in. She had the computer on the foyer's table. It was switched on and as it booted up, a low hum emanated from it and a little green light on the keyboard flickered on. White, typed letters went across the black screen, detailing copyright information about the software.

"Ooh," Ezra, Phineas, Gus, Dustin, and Bea chorused as one behind Destiny, clearly impressed with this new technology. Master Gracey, however, pretended to be as indifferent as he possibly could.

"What exactly is this contraption?" he asked as he circled the computer. "It's almost like a typewriter, only with a screen." He tapped the monitor apprehensively.

"Basically," said Destiny with a smile. She could tell George really was curious and even a little confused, despite his nonchalant attitude. "It's a laptop. I got it used, so it was pretty cheap. Only five hundred dollars."

"Five hundred?" he cried, appalled. "For that little thing?"

"It was a good deal," she said. "What it'll do is allow me to do some work at home, as soon as I load a few programs into it. And I got Internet hookup so I can send and receive e-mail."

"E-what?"

"Electronic mail," Destiny clarified. She would have been annoyed had she not reminded herself that most of those around her had died between the 1920s and 1940s, and had not seen modern technology, or any technology for that matter, in years. "You can send anyone a letter and it gets to them in a matter of seconds."

"Bloody little gizmo's brilliant, ain't it?" asked Bea. An infectious grin spread across her freckled face. "Oh, what I wouldn't give to be in your shoes!" Her sea-green eyes sparkled. "To be back out in the work force, fighting for the cause." She giggled. "You're so lucky to be a woman alive today, Destiny. You've got no idea how lucky."

The mortal suddenly felt solemn. She wondered what Bea's life had been like, and what kind of hardships she had faced. Dustin had probably been the perfect big brother, but he certainly couldn't have watched over Bea all her short life, and nor would she have wanted him to. Destiny had the suspicion that the young woman had probably taken part in more equal rights protests than she could count, and for all of her hard work, had gotten little in return.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Dustin asked, "Where's the mailbox?"

It took her a second to understand what he meant. "Oh, the e-mail. There isn't a mailbox. Everything is done right here on the computer." After logging onto the Internet, she brought up a letter, addressed it, and began typing, reading it aloud as she did so. "Dear, mom, I just bought a beautiful mansion. I'm not joking, and I didn't win the lottery either, so don't ask for handouts. It has spacious grounds for all those grandkids you're never going to get." She paused. She hadn't spoken more than four words to her mother in a month and didn't know if her humor would be appreciated. Considering her mother had adored her ex-fiancée, had hoped they would have lots of children, and had never appreciated Destiny's humor to begin with, the message might get her a bit peeved. Destiny shrugged and decided to leave it in anyway. She never really cared what her mother thought.

Continuing the letter, she typed, "My roommates are sweet, although a bit old fashioned, and…" She looked at Gus, who had one nostril pushed in and was tapping the other one, making a noise similar to a kazoo playing "Ain't We Got Fun." "They're eccentric."

"Humph," muttered Phineas. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Destiny ignored him as he took off his head and tossed it from hand to hand. "I also got a new job."

"Ooh!" Ezra cried. "Tell her you're a hired assassin! That ought to freak her out."

Destiny rolled her eyes. "I'm back in the engineering biz, doing …" Oh, what would be a good word that her mother would understand? "Stuff. Your darling daughter, Destiny." After giving it a quick spell check, she clicked on the 'send' button. "And it's sent to her, just like that. Neat, huh?"

"What else can you do with it?" asked Bea.

"There's billions of web sites on the Internet about millions of topics, online shopping, and auctions."

"Auctions, eh?" Phineas rubbed his chubby chin. "Ezra, buddy, we may be back in business."

"No grifting," George said sternly.

"How about conning?" suggested Ezra.

"No."

"Swindling?" Phineas asked hopefully.

"No."

"We're stuck here for an eternity and we can't do what we love most?" Ezra cried, horrified.

"I'm afraid so. Besides, you promised you wouldn't go back to your old con tricks."

Ezra and Phineas looked indignant.

"Death bed promises," started Phineas.

"Electric chair promises," Ezra interjected.

"Don't count," they cried as one.

Destiny's cell phone rang and before she could pick it up, Ezra grabbed it and answered. "Gracey Mortuary, you stab 'em, we slab 'em." George rolled his eyes and vanished, apparently to tend to more pressing matters.

"Hello?" the voice on the other end asked. "Hello? Destiny?"

"Why do I even bother?" Ezra sighed as Destiny snatched the phone from him.

"Hello, Destiny here."

"Hi, Des," Craig Jordan said brightly. "Is your phone working right? A minute ago all I got was static."

"Oh, that was just a little bit of interference," she said, shooting a glare at Ezra. She had wanted to point out that calling an employee by a nickname was unprofessional, but she quickly brushed the thought away as petty. "Why did you call?"

"It's about the new assignment, the bridge." He paused.

"What about it?" She had helped make bridges before. There had never been anything unusual about them.

"The project has a new head designer you'll be working under. Someone I'm sure you'll be very familiar with."

Destiny suddenly had a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach.

"Marie Covington, your old boss from Mellow Men Electric." He just sounded far too chipper to her. "She applied for the job here because of M. M. E. 's lack of business lately. With her past experience, Frees Construction couldn't pass her down."

Without thinking, Destiny mumbled, "You couldn't either." Quickly, she snapped her mouth shut.

"I guess I deserved that," Craig said, not in the least bit apologetic. "If you prefer, I can give someone else your position, and we can wait until a new one becomes available. Can't guarantee which department it will be in or how long it will take… I know you had your heart set on working in Design…"

She could just hear the smirk and she wanted to rip it off his face and shove it down his throat. Unclenching her teeth and fist, she said, "No, I'll be there bright and early Monday morning."

"I knew I could count on you. See you tomorrow." He hung up.

"Goody," she muttered as she put the phone on the table. Bracing her elbows on the tabletop, she put her head in her hands and sighed.

"Is something wrong?" Dustin asked quietly. He put a hand on her shoulder. "A problem at work?"

She looked up at him, into his kind eyes and worried smile, and tried to give him a reassuring grin. "Nah, my supervisors are going to be my two favorite people." After turning off the computer, she stood up and looked at the five ghosts. "I've got some things to prepare for tomorrow. So, I'll see you guys later." With another fake smile she headed for her room.

They heard her slam the door.

"Kid's in a bad mood," observed Phineas. "She's upset about something."

"She's probably just going through a tough time right now," Bea guessed. She looked at Dustin as if he knew exactly what was going on. He had not told anybody about the carriage ride the previous night.

"What?" asked Dustin slowly, unnerved by his sister's stare.

"Oh, come on. You two were kanoodling last night. What did she say? Who's the man that's been calling her?"

Dustin looked offended. "We weren't 'kanoodling'."

"That's not what Asher said."

"How would Asher know anything?"

"He said the two of you rode off in the buggy. I would assume such a romantic departure would be followed by a little bit of snogging." Her eyes twinkled naughtily.

Now Dustin just looked embarrassed. "There was no kanoodling and no… _snogging_," he snapped, flustered. "We just talked for a bit, that's all."

"'Bout what?" Bea was eager for some sort of tidbit of information.

Knowing all too well his sister's penchant for gossip, and simply because he was a gentleman, he replied, "The stars, and how beautiful they looked that evening."

"Aw, how cute," gushed Gus.

"What are you three still doing here?" Dustin asked.

"Oh, don't mind us," said Phineas.

"Until Destiny buys us a television set, you people are our only source of entertainment," Ezra said.

"It's just like a soap opera, without the commercials," Phineas added.


	25. Ghosts in the Machine

Chapter Twenty-Four

Monday morning came a little too early for Destiny. She had hardly gotten any sleep the previous night because of tossing and turning, not only from anxieties, but also from all of the noise caused by the swinging wake that had taken place in the graveyard. Her alarm clock went off and in her blind attempts to find the snooze button; she knocked it to the floor. With a stretch and a yawn, she got out of bed. Her left foot landed on a corner of the square clock. Cursing the inanimate object's exacted revenge, she grabbed her robe and limped to the bathroom.

Blinking bleary eyes at her reflection in the mirror, she picked up her hairbrush from off of the sink counter and began working on her brown locks. Something seemed to be happening to the mirror. She dropped the brush, and peered at the glass. A bluish-greenish form swirled and then finally took shape.

Ezra grinned a skeletal grin at her. "Mornin' raccoon eyes."

"Dobbins!" she cried as she glared at the ghost in the mirror. She was tired and not in the mood to put up with ghoulish antics.

Ezra feigned offense. "Aw, and I thought we were on a first name basis. I just came to wish you a good morning."

"What is it with you and my bathroom?"

He snorted. "I got that all through life and now I gotta put up with it in death too?" In a whiny, nasal voice he said, "What is it with you and my bathroom Ezra? What is it with you and my car Ezra? What is it with you and my grandma Ezra?"

She blinked. "Okay. A little too much information there, buddy."

"Why does your hat smell so funny Ezra?" He yanked off his bowler derby and shook it. A dead fish and a hunk of cheese fell out. "What is it with you and…

But Destiny didn't hear the rest. She had already backed out of the bathroom, leaving him to rant.

* * *

"I'm cool. I'm collected. I'm confident. I am going to be a completely civil person," Destiny muttered to herself. She was standing in front of a small mirror in the foyer. It was dirty from years of neglect, with a tarnished, oval metal frame. All she cared about was that certain bizarre ghosts weren't haunting it. She pulled her hair back, seeing what it would look like in a ponytail. Frowning, she dropped it and then tried out a bun.

"I think it looks best down, personally, but I'm just old fashioned," said Dustin as he stepped up beside her. Destiny had noticed that, unlike the other spirits, Dustin tried to "walk" rather than glide. He made an effort to look as if his feet were actually touching the floor, which he did very well. However, he could not make the sound of footsteps. He smiled. "You look sharp. Are you sure you don't want any breakfast? It's really nothing to whip up something, you know."

"I'll pick up breakfast on the way, a bagel or a scrambled egg burrito. I'm already running late."

"Then I'll get up early tomorrow and make sure you get a healthy breakfast. These fast food places you talked about seem…unsanitary." He helped her put on her jacket. After clearing his throat nervously, he added, "If any trouble comes up…I mean if you feel uncomfortable…or…" he stammered.

"Thanks." She ran her hands through her hair one last time. "I'll be all right. I'm over-reacting to this anyway." She nervously tugged on the ends of her silver skirt. In the left breast pocket of her matching jacket she put the little rose Dustin had given her the previous night. When she noticed him looking at it, she said, "I figured I could pick up a vase after work so I could put it on my desk. It doesn't seem right to just let it wilt. Well," she quickly exhaled, "wish me luck."

"I wish you lots of luck." Taking him completely by surprise, she gave him a hug. Since he didn't have a body it was more of a pantomime, but he got the point and embraced her back. "I've got the utmost faith in you."

"Well," said Destiny with a small cough while she tried very hard not to blush, "I trust you to keep an eye on things for me while I'm gone. You can let George continue to think he's in charge, but if he gets out of line…" She flicked her fist and made a noise like a cracking whip.

Dustin chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind. Just take care of yourself, and we'll be here when you get back."

"All right. Don't throw any wild parties while I'm gone," she called over her shoulder as she started to walk out the front door. She paused and turned. "And make sure the Three Stooges stay off my computer."

"Can do. Bye!" He stood there; staring until after the door was shut and locked, with a wistful, albeit goofy, smile. In his reverie, he failed to notice the little girl that materialized beside him.

"You adults are so weird."

Dustin jumped with a yelp. After regaining his composure and adjusting his glasses, he turned to look at the dainty child. "Oh, uh, hello there, um… I'm quite sorry but I've never known your name. I've seen you around." He offered a kind grin. He'd always considered himself good with children, but he had to admit that the dead kid gave him the creeps.

She giggled, in a forced sort of way that Dustin suspected she did because it was expected of her, not because she found anything amusing. She took of the fedora she was wearing—Koji's fedora, Dustin quickly realized—and turned it over and examined it. "You adults are so weird," she repeated. She put the hat back on.

"We're weird? You're the one stealing people's hats," he replied playfully.

"Only Koji's," she explained, "because it looks so neat. I'm Little Leota, by the way, but you can call me L. L. Everyone does. I know who you are, _Dustin_." She didn't smile so much as smirk. "Do you want to know why I think adults are strange?"

Dustin didn't answer. L. L. was giving him the willies.

Ignoring his silence, she said, "Grown-ups seem to have a difficult time admitting they like someone else. I mean, it can be so obvious, and they still won't say anything."

"Oh, I see what you're getting at," he said with an accusing tone and an arched eyebrow.

"You do?" L. L. bit her lower lip. "And here I thought I was being coy." She took off the fedora again and spun it on her left pointer finger. "Look, I know it's none of my business, and I'm just a little kid," she rolled her eyes at the statement, and Dustin got the impression that she had heard it a few hundred times during her short life, "but I can tell you like Destiny, and she seems pretty fond of you. Why don't you just flat out tell her how you feel? I mean, it's not like it'll kill you."

"It's complicated," Dustin said slowly. He didn't know why he suddenly felt compelled to explain his predicament to a child, even one who seemed to have a better sense of intuition than most of the adults he had met. "We're just from two different places."

"So that's why you have that funny accent."

"Yes…No! I meant that…My accent isn't funny!" He sighed. "Let me make this really simple. She's alive. I'm not. There, I said it."

Very quietly and sagely, L. L. stated, "Death doesn't stop someone from loving you." When Dustin looked back at her, she suddenly seemed so much older than she really was. When he was a young boy, he had heard of "old souls", people who were wise beyond their years because, as belief told, they had been reincarnated multiple times and had retained the knowledge they had learned in their past lives. No one Dustin had ever met had matched that description, until now.

She shrugged one small shoulder and with the air of someone who thinks they've found a perfectly acceptable solution to a tiny problem, added, "You could kill her." With a flick of her wrist, she flung Koji's hat onto the hat stand and vanished.

Dustin's mouth hung open at the horrible suggestion. "What a disturbed child." He was jolted out of his thoughts by the ringing telephone. The 1930s relic had been recently dusted by Destiny, who thought the old rotary was "wickedly retro". Before Dustin could even contemplate picking it up, Phineas appeared and made a dive for the phone, snatching it.

"Gracey Taxidermy, you snuff 'em, we stuff 'em. Phineas Queeg speaking." After a pause, he said, "Hey Koji, how's it going?" Pause. "No, she's not here… No, I don't know where she works." Short pause. "Do you kiss your mother with that mouth? How rude!" He slammed down the phone. "He hung up on me."

"What was the problem?"

Phineas shrugged and pushed his chubby fingers under his top hat and scratched his head. "Didn't say. But he seemed really upset."

Dustin tried to shake off his uneasy feeling. "He'll probably call back later, right? You know," he said thoughtfully, "it's a shame we have no way to contact her, if something were to happen."

"To her or to us?" asked the disembodied voice of George Gracey. "Something tells me Koji's call is the least of your worries, Mr. Dust."

Dustin wondered how long the former master of the manor, and Destiny's great-grandfather, had been listening. Silently, he prayed George hadn't heard the conversation he had with L. L. _And if he did, _Dustin thought, _I won't hear the end of it._

"Perhaps," said George as he appeared in front of the laptop, "there is a quick and easy way to get to her." He turned on the machine and flipped up the screen. "But I wouldn't want to impose. After all, I'm only supposed to _think_ I'm in charge." He smiled at Dustin and flicked a fist and made the same whip sound that Destiny had.

"A-heh," Dustin chuckled nervously.

"Are you going to send her one of those e-what's-a-majiggers?" asked Phineas.

George's cerulean eyes sparkled mischievously. "Not quite."

* * *

"Remember, if this looks bad, I look bad."

Destiny looked up from her computer screen with a sigh. "If it looks great you look bad," she muttered under her breath. Loud enough for Marie Covington to hear, she said, "You do realize that this is still conceptual work, right?" The schematics and plans for the new Liberty Bridge came up on the screen, a three-dimensional image that could be rotated and seen from any angle. She'd only been at work for three hours and already she was pressured with a deadline. She knew about the meeting between Frees Construction Company and the city council when she had gotten the phone call the previous day and she had agreed to double-check the plans for the bridge. Still, she felt as if she had been too rushed. It was also impersonal, considering all she did was punch in numbers and upload diagrams from other people. Her main job that morning had been to look over the illustration and double-check every measurement. Craig knew she had an extremely keen eye for detail. Then, it would be printed out and Craig and Marie would show it to the council. After the concept was approved, Destiny could have a little more artistic freedom with it later.

Destiny printed out the designs and picked up a file with several illustrations and notes. Beside her desk was a beautifully detailed painting done by the man who had previously held her job. It too would be part of the presentation.

Marie snatched up the printouts before the ink could even dry. She scrutinized every one and sniffed. "It's a start." Marie was a bony, hard looking woman in her mid forties. A chain smoker since her twenties, she had a raspy voice. Her shoulder length dusty brown hair already had shades of gray in it. How Craig had had a physical attraction to her, Destiny could never guess. But the two were equally selfish and superficial, so they were obviously meant for each other.

"Knock knock," said Craig with a laugh as he stepped into the cubicle. "Ladies, the meeting starts in twenty minutes. Are all the papers ready?"

"Yeah," said Marie, "but they're pretty low quality prints, and the ink is smudged."

"As long as the Mayor can see them that's all that counts," said Destiny.

"And the press," Craig added. "The 'Liberty Square Times' will be there, too." He turned to Marie. "Miss Covington, take these to the boardroom and begin setting things up, will you? I'll be there in a minute."

Marie shot a look at Craig and then at Destiny, picked up the papers and the painting, and hurriedly left. He watched until she turned down a hallway and was out of sight.

"It's an honor isn't it?" he said. "Constructing the new bridge for Liberty Square's two hundred and fifth birthday."

"Odd year to do it," said Destiny as she stacked papers on her desk. "You'd think they would have picked a less obscure anniversary. Like maybe, the two hundred and twenty-fifth birthday. I'm turning thirty-one next month and I don't get a bridge."

Craig laughed, a little too loudly and forcefully to be genuine. "I've always loved that sense of humor of yours." Looking past the stacks of files and papers, he saw one of the little Dixie cups from the watercooler next to her computer. In it was Dustin's rose. "Who gave you that?" he asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"A… friend," Destiny answered. _Why was that so hard to say? _she thought, surprised at herself.

"After the meeting, I'm going to lunch. Do you want to come with me?"

"No, thank you," Destiny said politely. "I've still got a lot of stuff to set up here. Then there's that repair job on the library I'm supposed to look over."

"How about lunch tomorrow?"

"Don't know."

"Day after that?"

"Not sure."

He thought about this. "What about dinner?"

"I told you--"

"Breakfast?"

Was he grinning? He was grinning! How was she supposed to take that comment?

"My plate is pretty full for a while, so to speak."

He frowned. "Well, there must be some day when you won't be busy when we can have a little…company chat."

"You know me, I have an extremely hectic social life." She wasn't about to add that she knew dead people who were more enjoyable to talk to than him. Like Dustin… "And you," she said, glancing at her watch, "have a meeting to go to. Good luck with that." They both said good byes and Craig left. She picked up a folder and leafed through it for no other reason than to clear her thoughts.

"Having a fun day at work, granddaughter?"

Destiny stifled back a yelp and dropped the folder, scattering notes all over the floor. After picking up the papers, she looked at her desk to discover George Gracey, only one-and-a-half inches tall on her computer screen.

With a grin he said, "I sent you a me-mail."

"What are you…No, how did you get here?" She crossed her arms over her chest.

He calmly sauntered on the desktop, inspecting all of the square software logos. After finding one he liked—Walt's Windows 2K Washer—he pulled himself onto it and sat on top of it, letting his legs dangle over the side. It shouldn't have been possible. It was just a flat square of pixels. He swung his legs like a little kid. "I just jumped into your, oh, what's it called again? Oh, yeah, computer. I remembered you had said that you can send those e-mails to anyone in a second, so I figured I could travel here just as easily."

Destiny arched an eyebrow. "Just as easily?"

"Okay," he admitted with a sheepish smile, "I did have a little bit of trouble. Looking up the correct engineering company was difficult, and I did pop up on a few wrong computers." He chuckled. "That poor librarian wouldn't stop screaming."

"And why'd you do that?"

"Is there anything wrong with checking up on my favorite descendent?"

Destiny allowed herself a smile. "You owe me years of good report cards and birthdays cash, gramps."

"I suppose I should tell you that Koji called. He didn't say much, except that, um, well I shouldn't repeat some of what he said. The general gist was that he was upset about something."

"He'll call back later. It's probably about having to write some report or whatever it is paranormal investigators do." She looked thoughtful. "You don't consider that an invasion of privacy, do you? I can tell him to stop his investigation."

George shook his head. "Thanks, but I don't think anything will come of it." Cocking his head to the side a little, he said, "You seem anxious, worried."

"Really?" She smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring way. "I'm fine. Stressed, but fine. Uh, I've got some things to do, so…"

"Oh, right. I'll go. Have fun."

She rolled her eyes. "I'll try." With a wave, he vanished. "Bizarre," she muttered. She looked at the rose. Soon, she would have to get a new cup before the bottom of this one dissolved. "Bizarre."


	26. Love

Chapter Twenty-Five

Dusk painted the sky with a palette of orange, yellow, and purple. The stars put forth their best effort to be seen in the remaining light. Even the moon would not come out of hiding yet. Two young boys, one of nine years of age, the other approaching eleven, sprinted into the graveyard.

"See," said the nine-year-old Joey as he and his brother surveyed the house and cemetery, "I told you it was haunted."

Todd looked up at Gracey Manor and scoffed. "It ain't haunted, it's just old."

Little Leota peeked out from behind a gravestone and giggled. It was just too easy!

"Come on," said Todd. "This wasn't even worth sneaking out of the house for. If we're not in our rooms when dad gets back from work, we're gonna be in big trouble." They both turned and started to walk away.

Little Leota crept forward. Silently, she glided up behind Joey. With practiced ease, she licked her finger and stuck it in his ear. Joey screamed.

"What?" snapped Todd.

"Something just gave me a wet willy!"

"Bullcrap. You're just paranoid. Have you been forgetting your Ritalin again?" The words were hardly out of his mouth before Master Gracey appeared out of thin air, grabbed the boy's underwear, and yanked it up. With terrified screams, the brothers bolted. L. L. fell back, clutching her sides with laughter.

"Normally such sophomoric humor is beneath me," said George as he adjusted his tuxedo cuffs. "But I suppose given the hauntees, I had to make an exception." He smiled nervously. The two spirits had not spoken to each other since George had told L. L. the truth about them. He cleared his throat. An awkward silence was rapidly growing. "How are you doing?"

"Good. You?"

"Same." Crickets chirped. George sighed. With a pang of regret, he realized that he almost lost two daughters. He wouldn't let that happen. "Would you like to take a walk and talk?"

The tiny ten-year-old smiled. "Yeah." Putting her small hand in his, they strolled towards the woods. "Can I…" She bit her lip, afraid to ask the question. "Can I call you father?"

He scowled at her and sternly said, "No."

She shrank back, crushed.

"I'd prefer Dad, actually. Father's just too formal." He smiled, giving her a playful nudge. "Don't you think?"

L. L. grinned back up at him. "Sure thing…Dad."

* * *

Relationships are difficult things, whether they're between family members or between friends, or in a very unique case, between a mortal and someone who happens to be dead. 

In a far corner of the library, next to one of the grand bookcases, Dustin sat at a small desk, clicking away at an antique typewriter. What L. L. had said to him had been nagging at the back of his mind all day. Not the bit about killing Destiny, but the idea of telling her how he felt. He took a moment to read over what he had typed, shook his head, tore the paper out of the typewriter, wadded it up, and tossed it behind him onto a small mountain of crumpled up papers.

"Too needy." He began another letter. "Too desperate." It became a small boulder for the mountain. He started to type again. After getting a few words down, he paused and glanced up at one of the marble busts that sat on the bookshelf a few inches above his head.

The bust glared down at him.

"Not very good, is it?" asked Dustin.

The bust moved side to side slowly, indicating a "No".

"Didn't think so." Dustin went back to typing. Only after three more words, he said, "This is too…too… I don't know, but it's too much of it." Blindly, he threw it over his shoulder. It was caught by an invisible hand and flung at the back of his head. The unfinished note flew through his face and landed on the typewriter.

Dustin sprang up. "Hey!" he cried as another rejected letter floated into the air. "Give that back!"

As the balled-up paper unfolded, Dustin's youngest sibling slowly appeared. She laughed and in a singsong voice said, "I've got blackmail! I've got blackmail!" Hovering above him, she dangled the paper tauntingly over his top hat.

"Bea!" Dustin cried out, snatching at the parchment in vain.

"That's my name, don't wear it out!" Bea laughed. After clearing her throat, she began to read it out loud. "Dear Destiny, I…" She scowled. "That's it?" Diving into the pile, she grabbed an arm full of notes. The nosy spirit unfolded a few more. "Dear Miss Chalmers, I think… Dear Destiny, I… It has come to my attention that…" Disappointed with the lack of juicy confessions of affections, she stared at him with a look that suggested that he owed her at least one little note about unbridled passion. "What is this, a love letter or an eviction notice?"

"You wouldn't understand", said Dustin, exasperated. He collected the scattered papers and put them in a wastebasket.

Bea descended down to the floor. "Wouldn't understand?" She dumped her load of notes onto the wastebasket pile and watched with annoyance as a few tumbled out. In vain, she tried to get them to stay, but soon quit and kicked them underneath the staircase."What wouldn't I understand?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he sat back down at the typewriter, his fingers hovering over the keys, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"I know you see yourself as my 'big, protective brother', but I'm not a little kid anymore. I've had a few relationships myself, you know."

"I know," said Dustin as he turned to look at her. He smiled. "Remember Scotty?"

"Oh yes. Scott Fitz…something. Nice boy. Wanted to be a writer, if I recall. He married some flapper."

"Such a shame." Dustin sounded genuinely sincere. "You two made a sweet couple."

"Really?" That was a rarity. Usually he hated all of her boyfriends.

"No, but I was just glad he could get you out of my hair for a while." He jumped out of the chair, laughing and ducking out of the way as Bea tried to punch him. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"Just generally annoying you, like all little sisters do. Plus, you've been in one your quiet moods lately and I was wondering what was wrong. It seems like you've been avoiding me ever since I asked you about the buggy ride. And Asher's been gone since this morning, I can't find him anywhere."

"You know he tends to disappear for hours on end. It's not like he can leave the property for more than an hour, anyway. He's still here. You hardly talk to him, so why are you worried?"

"He's been acting odd during the past week, don't you think?" Her eyes darting about, she added, "Shifty? Nervous?"

"I'd say he's been drinking excessively, but how can you tell?"

"I'm not joking! There's something up with him. And with you, too," Bea added, pointing an accusing finger at Dustin. "It's not just this Destiny business either, which," her tone softened and she smiled, "I find absolutely adorable, but," she went back to scowling, "I can tell you've got something bothering you." By then, she had him backed against the wall, her pointer finger poking his chest with every syllable. "And I want to know what it is."

He knew he could just slip through the wall and out, but she would follow anyway. She really was the most persistent person Dustin had ever known. Lying was pointless. Speaking on a strictly figurative level, she could see right through him. "I don't think I should…"

She gave him the most penetrating stare he had ever seen. "Out with it, Dusty," she demanded. "I'm not just going to idly stand by while you're in some kind of emotional turmoil. Siblings don't do that to each other."

Dustin sighed heavily. "Do you remember right after we died, when we realized we were ghosts?"

"Yes."

"Remember what you said when we saw our own bodies lying on the ground?"

"Yeah," she confirmed with a silly grin. "I said, 'Cor! Well, this is a blighter, isn't it?'"

"No," he shook his head. "After that."

"Oh. Let me think." Holding her chin between thumb and middle finger, she tapped the side of her cheek with her pointer finger thoughtfully. "'Could've been worse. We could've been killed by some lunatic.' Something along those lines, right?" She creased her eyebrows with an unsure smile. "Why?"

Dustin realized that stuttering through this was notgoing to help, so he just blurted it out."It wasn't an accident, Bea."

Her smile slowly vanished. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying our deaths were not caused by some accidentally contaminated tea," he explained flatly. "We were murdered."

Her mouth hung open and she took a step back from him. "Who…who would do such a thing?"

He chose his words carefully. "Someone we never knew."

"Who told you?" Bea cried, her voice cracking with impending sobs.

"George. Everyone else knew, Bea. They assumed we did."

"How? How would we bloody well know, huh?" Tears streamed down her cheeks. "We can't even remember our last names! How could we know we were murdered by someone we didn't know about!"

"Bea…" Dustin reached out as if to embrace her, but she shoved him away.

"And how could you keep this a secret from me?"

"I didn't want to hurt you," he said quietly.

"You just wanted me to be ignorant!" she screamed.

"No, that's the last thing I want for you. All of us, you, me, Asher, we've been through a lot, and I didn't want this to be added to the list. I remember how devastated you were when Mum and Dad died. I didn't want you to go through anything like that again."

Bea just stood silently for a second, and then the shock wore off and she buckled. She collapsed to her knees and sobbed, her body trembling with the force of her crying. "It's not fair! We didn't do anything to anyone! We didn't do _anything_!"

Dustin crouched beside her. "I'm sorry, sis."

She threw her arms around his neck and tucked her head against his chest, just as she haddone when she was a small child. "It's not fair!"

"I know," he whispered as he hugged her. He was suddenly taken back to 1919, on the night his parents died. He could remember it so well…Staggering into the house with Asher, home from the War…

* * *

Bea, then just a slip of a seventeen year old with a face full of freckles, had run into the room. He had expected her to be grinning at the sight of her returning brothers, but she looked as if she had been crying for hours. Throwing her skinny arms around them, she sobbed, "Dusty, Ash, you're home! Dusty...Dusty, they're _dead!_ Mum and Dad are dead!" 

He and Asher ran past her, their muddy boots leaving a trail of dark muck on the carpets. Slamming the door back with his good arm--the other was suffering from a fracture--Dustin burst into his parents room to find them lying on their bed. They looked so peaceful compared to the mutilated bodies he had seen on the battlefield.

"Dad went first," whispered Bea and she stepped up between her brothers. "He had been coughing all night. And Mum, she passed on shortly after. They got so sick after you boys left. The doctor didn't think they would survive these past few years, but…" Tears filled her eyes again and she sobbed. "They wanted to wait until you got home. They knew you would come home soon, knew you wouldn't be among the lost boys. Oh, Dusty!" She buried her face in his stained uniform jacket, her tears streaming dirt down her cheeks. "Dusty, it's not fair!"…

* * *

"It's not fair!" Bea looked up and wiped tears from her sea-green eyes. "We never got a break in life, and now death is treating us no better!" 

"No one said it was fair," Dustin replied softly as he pulled her up. "But we bounce back, don't we? We always have." He smiled his weary little smile that Bea found so much comfort in.

Sniffling, she nodded. She wanted to shout that she wanted to leave this wretched place, that she wanted to see her mother and father again, that she didn't want to feel homesick anymore. But she didn't. What was the point of all of that wanting when nothing could be done about it? If her brothers could go through this whole afterlife nonsense without complaining, then she could too. The last thing she needed to be was a whiny little sister.

"Yeah," Bea said and sniffed again. Reaching into her pocket, she grabbed a handkerchief to blow her nose on. In the distance, she heard the front door open, signaling Destiny's arrival. For a second, she paused, ideas running through her head. Grinning, she yanked Dustin's spectacles off.

"Hey!"

"Oh, don't be such a crybaby." She wiped the lenses on the handkerchief. "I swear, I haven't the faintest idea how you get your glasses so grubby." Then she pushed them back onto his face, snatched off his top hat, spun him around, and tugged off his coat. "Much better," she said to her very confused and dizzy brother. "Hmm." After eyeing him critically, she reached up and smoothed down a few strands of stray hair and tucked his tie under his vest. "Now," she shoved him out of the library, "go impress your lady friend."

He poked his head through the door. "But—"

Lovingly, and with a little more force than necessary, she pushed him back. "Shoo! Go make some hot tea and cook her a nice dinner!" After he was gone, she looked back at the piles of unfinished letters. He needed some serious help.

Dustin had always been there for her when she needed him. Now was her chance to repay him. Bea grinned, a plan already formulating in her mind.

* * *

A/N: My apologies for the similarities between the movie _HellBoy_ and Dustin's letter writing scene. Honestly, I wrote this before seeing that movie. Weird, huh? Speaking of weird, there's yet another F. Scott Fitzgerald joke in one of my Haunted Mansion stories. One day, the number of Fitzgerald references might catch up with the number of _Wizard of Oz _quips. I think random, pointless, obscure musical references will always outnumber the two of those combined, though. 


	27. And They Call it Bella Notte

Chapter Twenty-Six

Destiny's teeth chattered as she walked into her room and sat on the edge of the bed. With two short kicks, she sent her high heels on a short flight that abruptly ended as they hit the wall. She shrugged out of her jacket and glared with hatred at the tiny white, wet flakes on the shoulders. It had started to snow lightly as she left work. The late October air was already cold, but she wasn't ready for snow. Oh sure, the tourists thought the changing leaves and majestic white drifts were beautiful, but they weren't the ones raking and shoveling for hours on end.

_How could Koji leave Florida for this? _she thought as she hung up her jacket. Ever since she had moved out of her parents' home, Destiny had thought about moving further south, but some small part of her wanted to stay in Liberty Square. _And now I have the mansion. _Suddenly a very large part of her wanted to stay.

The odd feelings that she had felt throughout the day started to creep back. _I really do care about this place, _she thought. _But more than the house, it's the gho—people. I care about these dead people and they care about me. _That made her smile. _And for the first time in nearly twenty years I actually feel loved. _She shook her head to clear away that thought. "That's not true," she muttered to her feet. But it was, and she knew it, deep down inside. After her grandparents' and father's deaths, she had felt hollow. Her dad had been the most important person in her little world. When he died, it felt as if part of her heart had died, too. Her mother Miriam became cold and depressed, practically ignoring her daughter as she stayed locked in her room for days at a time. Destiny was thirteen when her mom remarried. The moody teen was never able to bond with Frederick, her stepfather. Really, he was a nice guy, and he had tried hard to be a good father, but Destiny was too stubborn, too angry, and too scared to accept him into her life.

She and her mother drifted apart as well. Miriam thought Destiny had become too cynical and withdrawn, and Destiny thought Miriam was too materialistic and desperate. The two fought more and more as Destiny grew older. Now, with the exception of the short e-mail, it had been months since the two had spoken more than three sentences to each other. Miriam had been mad when Destiny had left Craig. ("Take 'em where you can get 'em, Destiny. You're getting at an age where you can't afford to push men away. You're not getting any younger and you don't know what tomorrow will bring!")

And Craig? She had never truly loved him, nor had he loved her. It was a match made of desperation and narcissism, a terrible combination.

Sighing, Destiny got up. As she was pushing open the sliding bathroom door, she noticed her sign lying on the floor. She picked it up. Underneath of where she had written 'Mortals Only', someone had scribbled in red crayon: 'Racist! We demand equal shower rights for dead folk! Signed, E. Dobbins'. She scoffed. "In your demented dreams, Dobbins." Then she took a much-needed hot shower.

* * *

Dustin peeked into the boiling pot, blowing away the steam that would otherwise drift through his head. With a smile of satisfaction, he put the lid back down. The nearby teakettle whistled shrilly in a perfect imitation of a runaway locomotive, signaling that the tea was ready. He poured a cup, oblivious to the plump redhead who had wandered into the kitchen.

"Wha' cha doin'?" asked Amelia.

Dustin stifled a cry of surprise and fumbled for the teapot. Signing with relief, he put it safely back onto the stove. He smiled at George's aunt. "I'm making dinner."

"Great, what are we having?" Amelia looked around the kitchen eagerly with a big smile on her round face. She peeked into the pot. "Spaghetti and," she opened the oven door and looked in, "garlic toast."

Dustin pulled out the pan and placed it on the counter, inhaling the aroma. He chuckled. "Spook-getti and ghoul-ic toast," he punned with a grin.

Amelia groaned. "Leave the bad jokes to George." With a sly smile and an impish twinkle in her eyes, she added, "You know, garlic can really ruin after-dinner treats."

"Well," Dustin drained the noodles in the sink, poured them into a bowl, and began adding sauce, "ice cream shouldn't really be a problem with…" He stopped, blinked a couple of times, and looked up at the woman. "Amelia," he chided, feigning shock. "That's not very lady like, now is it?" Try as hard as he might, he couldn't stop smiling. Had he had blood flow, he would have blushed. "This is nothing more than just fixing dinner for a friend."

"With candles."

"How did those get on the table?" he tried to sound surprised.

She laughed. "Well, I for one am happy to see you so…well, happy. Even when you were alive, you were so withdrawn and quiet. And I see she's brought out your sense of humor. I was starting to doubt you even had one."

"Oh, I wasn't that bad, was I?"

Chuckling softly, she nodded. "Every party I invited you and your sister too, you were a wallflower. Whenever Georgie would have his little get-togethers, Asher always had to be invited because he worked with him. You know that whole social standing thing."

Dustin rolled his eyes. "Yes, I was aware of the whole 'social standing thing'. You have to be when you're on the bottom rung of the class ladder."

Amelia continued, "I always asked him to bring you and your sister along. I thought the two of you were much better company than he ever was. George and Lily did, too. And Ezra and Phineas…well, they probably hate him more now than they did all those years ago." She looked down, suddenly thoughtful. "I always knew you were one of the good ones, Dustin. Lily felt the same way. She had a talent for seeing people for who they really were. At least she's in a better place now."

Softly and somberly, Dustin asked, "Do you really think so? Do you think maybe she's stuck here and we just haven't found her?"

"Georgie's looked everywhere. Except for the attic, but he has his own reasons for not going in there." Before Dustin could ask why, Amelia quickly said, "You shouldn't keep your feelings for Miss Chalmers bottled up. Tell her the truth. What's the worst that could happen?"

"That's what L. L. and Bea said."

"They're a bit nosy sometimes, aren't they?" She grinned.

"That's the pot calling the kettle black. You haven't been talking to my sister have you?"

"Chatted with her on my way here. Let me just get to the point. If you don't get these things out in the open, you are going to regret it. I missed every opportunity I had. Maybe if I had spoken up, me and Ph—" She caught herself. "Me and someone else could have had happy lives together."

Dustin didn't question further, but smiled knowingly. "He's still here, you know."

Amelia actually looked shy. "We talk occasionally. He and his brother usually have some sort of scheme going. He should put his brain to better use, if you ask me."

The kitchen door slowly swung open and Destiny stepped in. She was wearing flared navy sweat pants, a light blue sweater, thick socks, and a damp towel was piled on her head. Dustin realized that Destiny felt comfortable enough to just be casual and to be herself, without worrying about perfect clothes and makeup all the time. And why shouldn't she? She now lived in the mansion after all. But he couldn't help but feel that it made her all the more attractive.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," she said. "It smells so good. I had to come in and check it out."

Dustin smiled and with a cheesy French accent said, "Ze master chef ez at work, _cherie_. I shall have ze diner in ze dining room in jus' a moment." He tried to grin, feeling like he's just said the most stupid thing in the world.

She laughed. "I hope I'm not underdressed."

"Oh no, you're fine." Quickly, he thought of a compliment to add. "Um, the towel goes well with your eyes."

Slowly, she put a hand to her head. A look of embarrassment quickly washed over her face. "I forgot I was still wearing that," she muttered. She winced. "I better go…put this in the bathroom…to dry." One hand up to block her red face, head down, she darted out of the kitchen.

Amelia put her arm around Dustin's shoulders. "Well, at least you're both starting off equally embarrassed, hmm?"

After Amelia left, Dustin hit his forehead against the wall. Considering it just went through, it didn't give him quite the painful effect he was hoping for. "Bloody, bloody stupid." If he had actually completely gone through the wall, he would have seen Destiny doing the exact same thing on the other side.

* * *

Hair now completely dry and towel free, Destiny cautiously stepped into the dining room. She had traded the sweats for a little more formal pair of jeans and had put on a pair of white sneakers. (Somehow, even a dinner didn't seem to justify wearing high heels after walking around in those god-awful shoes all day.) Apprehensively, her dark brown eyes scanned the room.

The half that was used as a ballroom had a few of its normal waltzing occupants and Mr. Baker was playing a soft tune on the organ. A lit candelabrum sat on the middle of the long table, its usual cobwebs swept away. At the head of the table, the furthest seat from the dance floor, was a fresh cup of hot tea. Next to it was a clean, empty plate and a fork resting on a napkin.

She sat down, still feeling oddly nervous. Just sitting alone at a table brought to mind so many memories of being stood up that spanned as far back as her high school days. While she waited, she watched the ghostly couples waltz. They seemed so happy and care-free, dancing for eternity. Not for the first time, she wondered what that would be like. There would be no bills to pay, no groceries to buy, no ex-boyfriends to work with. If you didn't want to talk to someone, you could just--_poof--_vanish or become invisable. Destiny had to admit, she did feel a little bit envious of them.

"Are you all right, dear?"

Destiny looked up at Amelia. "Yeah. Just spacing." She looked through the ghost at the kitchen door.

The older woman chuckled kind-heartedly. "He'll be out in a moment."

Destiny quickly turned her attention to George's aunt, blushing. "Oh, I wasn't worried or anything." She looked down and realizing she had been wringing her napkin nervously.

Smiling knowingly, the redhead sat down next to the brunette. Looking over the table, she said, "No wine, huh? God I miss wine. That was my only vice in life, you know. Well, that and the wild parties." She giggled, lost in a memory. "Oh, the things that went on…. George wouldn't have approved. Which was why it all happened when he was away." She giggled again. Amelia reminded Destiny of some old relative, the kind that her parents wouldn't want her around because they feared she would be corrupted, but she would want to stay because the stories that would be told were always so funny and vulgar.

The mortal grinned and took a sip of her tea. "Well?" she prodded.

"I shouldn't." Darting her hazel eyes around, Amelia leaned in close. "Let me just say that even if prohibition was in affect, it was not a problem we had to worry about. And if you played your cards right, there was a lot of cash to be had." She winked and tapped the side of her nose. "Not all of the Gracey fortune is old money."

"But if George wasn't in on it…" Destiny teased with an accusing smile.

Amelia shrugged. "I needed a hobby, and I'm not the type of old lady who enjoys knitting. Besides, a little bit of bootlegging never hurt anyone. It was a silly law, anyway."

Destiny tried very hard not to choke on her tea as she laughed.

* * *

Dustin picked up the pot of spaghetti and started to make his way to the dining room. Jumping in front of him, Phineas stopped him. "Hey, where're you goin' with that?"

"Dining room," Dustin quickly answered as he tried to dodge around the fat phantom.

"Dinner with Des, huh?"

"Yeah." Not in the mood for small talk with the other ghost, Dustin turned his back to the swinging door to push it open.

"You know," Phineas said slyly, "I have something that might be of help to a man such as yourself."

Dustin rolled his eyes heavenward and sighed. If he didn't just go along with whatever it was, Phineas would not leave him alone. "And what might that be, Mr. Queeg?"

He brightened. "I'm so glad you asked." With a snap of his fingers, his carpetbag appeared at his side. He unlatched it and pulled out a little pink bottle with XII written on it with a permanent marker. "Love potion number twelve!"

"Number twelve?"

"Well, nine was taken and ten and eleven were complete duds. Ezra's hair never grew back after _that _incident," he mumbled absentmindedly.

In an effort to get Phineas to leave, Dustin said, "Amelia wants to talk to you."

The other spirit's face immediately lit with a grin. "Really?"

"Yeah. She just left. She might be in the ballroom… And pour that junk down the sink first!"

* * *

"Dinner is served," Dustin announced as he backed out of the kitchen. His intent was to use his back side to push open the door. He failed to calculate how strong he would be since all of his energy had to be put into his hands to remain solid enough to carry the pot. Instead, he went through the door, and the pot stayed on the other side, clanging stubbornly against the wood. Suppressing chuckles, Destiny got up and held the door open for him. "Thanks," said Dustin sheepishly. Phineas was right behind him, already looking for Amelia. When he spotted her, he waved.

"Good evening, Miss Audley!"

"And a fine evening to you too, Mr. Queeg!" she replied, jumping up to greet them. "Phineas, why don't we let the young'uns talk?"

"Young'uns?" asked Dustin and Destiny at the same time.

"Go serve dinner, Dustin. Look at how skinny the poor girl is; she's starving." Grabbing the older man's arm, Amelia said, "Come on, Phinny, we've got some catching up to do."

"Cute couple," commented Destiny as she watched them walk out. "Never would have put the two of them together."

"It goes way back," said Dustin as he placed the pot on the table. "I've got to get the toast, I'll be right back."

As he left, she began piling spaghetti onto her plate. She hoped they could have a nice, peaceful dinner; although, she had a sneaking suspicion that wasn't going to happen.

Bea was waiting in the kitchen, much to Dustin's surprise and dismay. "So, how's it going?"

"Why is everyone so fascinated by me cooking dinner? I swear, every time I turn around, someone's in here bugging me."

"We can't help it; we're bored. It's been decades since something nearly this exciting has happened. And you're happy, which makes me happy."

Dustin smiled. He could never stay mad at his little sister. "I'm going back in. I just had to grab the tray."

"Ooh, ghoulic toast!" she giggled.

The doors to the ballroom burst open and Ezra and Gus stepped in, deep in conversation. "I tell you, Gussie, we wouldn't have gotten into the trouble we did if he weren't gallivanting around with that woman. I mean, I'm happy for him, I really am, but I gotta look out for my brother, even if he only is my half brother. I knew from the start she wasn't as angelic as she claimed to be. Don't give me that look! I know we weren't perfect either. Just between you and me, he had his priorities screwed up."

Gus gave him a silent stare.

"You're right, she wasn't, er, isn't that bad. I'm just venting, you know. And can you believe the nerve of that guy, walkin' up to me and sayin', 'Hey, old chap' like we're friends? And where would he be runnin' to anyway? I just want to take that stupid flask of his and shove it down his throat!" Ezra fumed.

Destiny cleared her throat.

"I hate that sleazy, slimy—" Gus jumped up and balanced on the metal ball attached to his shackle and tapped Ezra's shoulder. "Oh." The skeletal spook stopped ranting and looked at Destiny. "Sorry. Gus is my therapist."

The dwarfish ghost fished in his pocket and took out a piece of paper and handed it to Ezra.

"What's this?"

Gus tapped the top of the parchment. "Bill."

"What do you mean a bill!"

"Charge by the hour."

"In your dreams, you little midget Freud." Ezra tore up the paper. "So," he plopped down in a chair next to Destiny, and propped one elbow on the table and rested his head on the palm of his hand, inches away from her face. "Is this a dinner for one? 'Cause it can be a dinner for two." He winked and clicked his tongue. "What do you think of that?" He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Destiny chewed thoughtfully. "You want to know what I think of that?" She opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue, showing off chewed noodles and sauce.

"That's disgusting!"

"Exactly." She looked up as Dustin placed the tray of garlic toast on the table. As Dustin had done before, she mouthed the words, "Thank you," and then shot glances at Ezra.

"Leave," commanded Dustin.

Ezra tried his best to look offended. "How dare you interrupt my dinner date with Destiny!"

Bea tapped him on his bony shoulder. "Let's dance."

Ezra scoffed. "You're a little young for me, honey."

With a scowl, she grabbed his bowtie and yanked him up to her snarling face. "I said, 'let's dance'," she hissed through clench teeth.

"Right!" And he sprang up from his seat, only to be practically dragged across the dance floor. "Hey, broads aren't supposed to lead!"

"Shut up and waltz!"

"She's dated worse men," Dustin joked. He watched as Destiny dumped spaghetti onto a slice of toast and put another on top of it. "What are you doing?"

She lifted the two pieces of bread to her mouth. "Spaghetti sandwich. You never made them?" she asked skeptically. When he shook his head no, she went on. "My Dad and I used to."

"How's he doing?" Dustin tried to spark a conversation.

"He's been dead for twenty years." She looked up at his ashamed expression and instantly felt bad for being so blunt. Once again, she had proven to herself that tact was not her strong point. "Don't feel bad," she said as he began to stammer apologies. "I've dealt with it for so long that that's just how it always comes out when I explain. I never actually mean to be so frank about it. I guess that's why a lot of people don't like talking to me." She chuckled nervously and offered a weak grin. Then, suddenly feeling embarrassed, she stared back down at her plate.

Dustin mentally ran through a list of things he should say, but most of them, he reflected, were things he shouldn't. Bea decided to come to his rescue at that moment. Ezra looked as if he was going to puke out of sheer dizziness as they spun close to the table. Stepping on his foot to get her brother's attention, Bea hissed, "Compliment her, you git!"

After watching the two waltz away, Dustin stared at Destiny for a moment. Having spent most of his adult life in an era of seedy speakeasies, bootleggers, organized crime, and "The Lost Generation", meeting someone like Destiny who was honest and grounded was a breath of fresh air. And, he would never admit this out loud, he had found someone who was as socially awkward as he. She was patient with the awkwardness as well, rather than laughing him off as so many other women had done.

It shocked him a moment later when he actually said a decent compliment. "You look beautiful in the candlelight." It had just slipped out as she had pulled her hair back away from her face, revealing her features. She looked up at him, her eyes bright with the light from the flickering flames. "Yeah?" she asked, her lips curling up into a little smile.

"Yeah." He had to follow up with something really great to top that. "Well, actually, you'd look beautiful in any light. Or even in the dark." He stopped. He could tell by the way that Destiny's eyebrows were arched that amidst all that babbling he had said something stupid. "That didn't come out right, did it?"

Ezra was guffawing all the way across the room. He gave him a thumb down.

When Dustin looked back at Destiny, he could feel his heart sink as she laughed at him. She wiped away tears and looked up at him with a grin. "It's just so pathetic!"

Dustin frowned, his feelings hurt. "I'm just trying--"

"I know, that's the point!" she said, still grinning. "Don't you see? Why are we trying so hard? It's pathetic that we're acting this way, Dustin. You're trying to think of compliments and I'm in my little..." She spread her fingers wide apart, curling them, and pushed her hands together to make a round shape. Glaring at it, she finished her sentence, "My little shell." Arms falling down to her sides, she smirked. "Why are we even so nervous anyway?"

"You're right," he said, smiling back at her. "We need to lighten up. We're acting like a couple of clumsy teenagers on a first date." They laughed.

"At least no one's singing to us. I hate when they do that at restaurants." No sooner were the words out of her mouth when Gus, who had pretty much kept to himself this whole time, began to sing.

"_Oh this is the night, it's a beautiful night, and they call it belle notte_…"

"Who gave him the accordion?" asked Destiny.

"Gus…" Dustin started.

"Only trying to help!" cried the little man.

"Go away," pleaded Dustin.

"Can Gus show you new trick?"

Looking down at the shackled man tugging on his beard pathetically, Destiny felt sympathetic. "Okay," she said, "you can show us your trick." To Dustin, she added, "What harm could it do?"

Gus picked up his chain and began to swing it unsteadily. "What exactly are you going to do?" asked Dustin.

"Lasso!" By now the metal ball and chain was twirling above his head. "Um, something's wrong…" The clattering of breaking plates and flying silverware drowned his following yell out. Dustin grabbed Destiny's hand and pulled her under the table. They couldn't see through the tablecloth but they could hear glass breaking, Gus's frantic cries, and the screaming of the other ghosts.

"You can blame me for that," Destiny said sheepishly.

"I'm sorry this turned out so bad," said Dustin as the broken dishes were swept away by a grumbling ghost with a broom. At some point during his demonstration, Gus had flung himself to the far side of the room and had crashed into Ezra and now Bea was trying to pull the disoriented men up with a bit of difficulty. "I just wanted to do something nice for you. I know how stressful it is to move into a new place, to meet new people, and to try to start a new life. I thought maybe it would help you feel a little less alone." He ran his hand through his blonde-tinted hair and sighed. "Didn't quite go as planned."

Destiny shrugged one shoulder. "Okay, so there were a few gauche moments here and there, but the food was excellent, the company was good, and the floor show was smashing. In fact, the show nearly smashed the floor to pieces." She smiled at him "You're really the only close friend I've ever had, Dustin. Everyone else gave up on me." At this sudden painful confession, tears welled in her eyes and he brushed them aside.

"I'll always be here." He grinned. "After all, where else can I go?" He chuckled weakly.

Destiny felt more sorry for him than she ever had before. At least half of that sympathy she felt was for herself, although she couldn't quite place why. "Dustin, I…" she stammered, not knowing exactly what she was going to say next. Her problem was quickly solved, however, when Bea lifted up the tablecloth.

"Found them!" she called triumphantly. "They were kanoodling under the table!"

"We weren't kanoodling," explained Dustin as they crawled out, "we were hiding from the shrapnel." He pulled Destiny to her feet. To her, he said, "Maybe breakfast might go a bit smoother? Say, eight o' clock?"

"Sounds good." Then she added, "I like pancakes. With tons of syrup."

"It'll be ready when you get up."

For a moment, she seemed unsure of what to do next. Finally, Destiny said, "It's getting late. Good night."

"'Night." He watched her leave, feeling as if he'd missed something important.

"Did I interrupt something?" asked Bea. If he had an answer, she didn't know. He left the room without so much as a wave to her.

* * *

A/N: The song "Bella Notte" is from _Lady and the Tramp._


	28. Shackles and Stories

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Asher was waiting outside of the ballroom as Dustin walked out. He was leaning casually against the wall, taking a sip from his flask. Pushing up his derby as his eldest sibling walked by, he called out, "Oi! Dust!"

Dustin finally stopped and turned, surprised at seeing his stocky brother in the house. "What are you doing here?" he asked curiously.

Asher quickly stuffed the flagon into some mysterious inner pocket of his too tight blazer. "Nothing, just finished running an errand for a friend." Changing the subject, he said, "I ran into that Ezra bloke. 'E 'ates me."

"Can't imagine why," Dustin muttered.

Asher scoffed. "Everyone makes mistakes in their life. I was just doin' my job, defending the innocent and all that. 'Sides, 'e deserved it, didn't 'e? Can't con and steal from people and not expect to pay the consequences, eh? Don't get me wrong. Death is a pretty harsh penalty for such petty crimes, but how was I to know that was the extent of what 'e'd done? How was a judge to know 'e was innocent, especially with what the witnesses had 'eard? I mean, it's not like his dead brother could testify in the trial," he said as he chuckled, obviously not in the least bit guilt ridden.

"So," he continued, dragging out the word as long as possible with a little smirk, "what were you and the flesh and bones up to? I'm standing 'ere, enjoying a nice drink, and then there's a 'orrible racket. Stuff breaking, yelling. Then she walks out all smiles. Then you walk out. What the bloody 'ell was going on in there, mate?"

"Gus decided that it was a good time to show off his lasso trick."

"Oh, 'e's the one with the…" Asher bent up one leg and pointed to his ankle. "Gave me a rotten look as I was walking past. 'E's a liability. Don't see why George allows 'im to be 'ere. 'E's going to hurt someone one of these days."

Dustin rolled his eyes and then shook his head. "It would be rather difficult to kick someone out when we can't leave, wouldn't it? Or have you forgotten that already?" With a smile, he added, "It's easy to tell you were a lawyer; you refer to a person as a liability. Besides, he's not the type to hurt anyone. He's harmless."

Asher tapped the side of his head. "'E's a bit off. Probably been to squirrel college with a bunch of other nuts. I bet shorty was there long enough to get a doctorate." He laughed at his own joke.

Asher wasn't even finished guffawing when a hoarse voice yelled, "DON'T MAKE FUN OF GUS!" The little man ran out through the ballroom doors, swinging his chain. Before Asher could run away, Gus had flung the transparent shackle. The ball wrapped around the other man's ankles and sent him crashing down to the floor. Giving the manacle a yank, Gus pulled Asher to his face. "Who's 'shorty' now?"

Ezra sauntered out, his skeletal grin wider than usual. Bea bolted into the hallway, worried for her brother. When she saw him, she burst out into fits of laughter. With a British accent, the emaciated man bent down to greet Asher, who was on his knees. "'Ello old chap! I say, you're in a spot of trouble, what?"

Asher struggled to get up and Gus pulled him back down. "Will you get this bloody thing off!"

"Say sorry!" demanded Gus.

"Call of your stupid animal!" Asher yelled at Ezra.

"Sorry, Gus is a free spirit," Ezra replied. In a dramatic voice and a raised fist he added, "No man commands him!"

"Dust!" Asher snarled.

Dustin crossed his arms over his chest and smirked. "I think you should give him an apology."

"Yeah," Bea concurred. "Stop being such a bloody twit, Asher."

His dark eyebrows furrowed into a scowl, Asher hissed through clenched teeth, "Fine! I'm sorry, all right?"

Gus flicked his wrist and the shackle unwound itself obediently. Wagging a finger in Asher's face, he told him, "You should not judge people. It's not nice."

"Yes," agreed Ezra, "we wouldn't want anyone to be wrongfully accused now, would we?"

Glaring into his eyes, Asher said, "You need to let go of the past, Mr. Dobbins." With a huff he turned and walked through a wall, back to the graveyard.

"Scaly greaspall," Ezra muttered. Gus nodded his head in agreement.

"Sorry about that, gents," Dustin apologized. He couldn't believe it! He actually felt sorry for Gus and Ezra. Maybe they could get a bit carried away with their jokes sometimes, but Asher was the one who had gone too far.

Gus grinned at him, showing off a mouthful of crooked teeth. "Feelings not hurt. Just wanted to give him hard time. But Gus thankful you are friend." Without any warning, he wrapped his arms around Dustin's waist and hugged him tightly.

"Um, uh, affectionate little thing, isn't he?" Dustin chuckled nervously and patted Gus's head.

Bea hid her laughter behind her palm. "That's adorable!"

"Dustin Gus's friend, right?" the bearded man asked.

Dustin looked down at Gus. "Yes, we're friends," he confirmed kindly. "Now, off with you." Smiling, he made shooing motions with his hands.

"C'mon Gus," said Ezra. "Let's go chuck rotten eggs down the organ pipes." He sniggered. "I just love that look on Xavier's face when he's mad!" Cackling to themselves, they headed for the kitchen to find their ammo.

"Odd bunch," Bea commented. "But a good odd bunch. Well," she turned to her bespectacled brother, "how did your dinner go?"

He reflected upon it for a moment. "Pretty well, actually," he admitted.

"Yeah?" She nudged him playfully with her shoulder.

"Yeah," he nudged her back.

Eyes twinkling, she said, "You're going to just _love _what I have planned for tomorrow night!"

"What? What's tomorrow night?" She didn't answer, but instead turned and headed for the graveyard. "Bea!" he called after her as she quickly glided away. Chasing her, he yelled in vain, "Bea what are you planning?"

* * *

Meanwhile, Destiny was standing in the doorway of the library, leaning against the wall and a wistful smile on her face as childhood memories flooded back. Sitting on the couch were George and L. L..A book of ghost stories was held in the master of the manor's hands, and his clear, velvety voice read aloud the words. 

"'As he crept closer'," George breathed, "'he could distinguish in the window of the manse an ebony flitter, as if a dark shadow had skirted through the room. But,'" here his voice dropped to a hushed whisper, "before he could so much as step onto the terrace of the gothic abode, a shriek, like the cry of the'…" He stuttered. "'Like the cry of the darned pierced the night air, pierced his very soul.'"

"That's not what it says," Little Leota interjected slyly.

"Perhaps not, but that is where we are finishing for tonight."

"Just _one _more chapter!" L. L. pleaded, her transparent hands clasped. Destiny could remember herself at that age saying those exact same words to her father every night.

"That's not going to work a third time, young lady. Now, off to bed with you." Before she climbed down off of the couch, he pushed back her bangs and lightly kissed her forehead. "Good night."

"Good night dad." As she walked out, she said, "Good night Destiny." She paused just long enough to give Destiny a hug.

"Good night, kiddo. Don't let the coffin bugs bite."

"I don't. I bite first." Happily she slowly dematerialized, fading from sight.

George put the book back into its proper place on a shelf. "I didn't know you were standing there," he admitted bashfully.

"Sorry, I was enjoying the story," the mortal said. "Your idea?"

"No, hers, actually." He smiled, but it wasn't his usual smug smirk. It was a genuinely nice little curl of the lips that somehow made him seem more youthful.

"I take it the single-parent afterlife is treating you well."

The ghost chuckled. "Oddly enough, yes. You know, I never really considered myself to be good with children. It turns out that I'm not too bad."

"Yeah." She grinned back at him. "I'm proud of you. You're doing something a lot of guys won't even attempt."

"Thank you. Still, it took me so long to actually own up to—"

Destiny held up a hand to silence him. "The important thing is you're trying. Like they say, better late than never."

Pondering that for a few seconds, he asked, "Is there a dead person joke in there somewhere?"

She shrugged. "Probably. But I'm too tired to think straight. I've got to get up early and join the ranks of the living." After yawning, she added, "No swinging wakes tonight, I mean it."

"You have my word." The spirit watched her walk down the dark hallway. He was hoping she wouldn't forget to say—

"Pleasant screams, grandpa."

Grinning he replied, "Pleasant screams, granddaughter." _This family thing, _he thought, _is certainly something I could get used to._

* * *

A/N: I'm sorry to say that this will be the last update for a while. The good news is that my birthday is next Sunday! Feel free to leave a review as a gift. :p (Constructive criticism always welcome, of course.)

Happy haunting!


	29. A Morning at the Office

Chapter 28

Breakfast preparation was going by much, much smoother than fixing dinner had. In fact, only one person interrupted Dustin the whole time he was trying to cook. Gus was not much of a bother, anyway. He just ran around the kitchen chanting, "PANCAKES! PANCAKES! PANCAKES!" until a bewildered Dustin agreed to let him lick the bowl. When it came to ghosts eating, Dustin handled it the same why he handled Asher's drinking: He kept his mouth shut and ignored it as much as humanly--or ghostly, he still was not quite sure of the terminology--possible.

Knowing that a scrumptious breakfast of pancakes was waiting for her, Destiny entered the kitchen. Dressed in a close-fitting purple turtleneck and black slacks, she was oddly bright-eyed. It made Dustin feel good to see her so well rested. A full plate and a glass of milk was waiting for Destiny at the small kitchen table. She wondered why the table was there. In old houses like Gracey Manor, she knew the kitchens were centers of bustling activity as cooks and various servants rushed about, preparing meals and bringing in and taking out plates. Despite the grand dining room, perhaps George preferred to have cozy, intimate meals with Lily in the kitchen, a place where the two could have been close; whereas the dining room, although romantic, had so much space that intimacy could easily be lost simply in the spaces between the chairs.

"Did you have a pleasant night?" asked Dustin after Destiny had taken a few bites of her breakfast.

Nodding, she took a gulp of milk. "Very," she answered with a smile. "It was the first time in years that I didn't have nightmares."

"What are they usually about?" the ghost asked, sliding into a seat beside the mortal.

She chewed thoughtfully for a minute. Furrowing her brow, she began slowly. "I'm at my grandparent's house and the fire starts. It's just like when I was ten, but I'm not ten. I'm thirty. I look out the window and see ten year old me waving at thirty year old me." Quickly, she added, "Which is weird, I know, but it's a dream, so it makes sense.

"Dad runs into the house, and somehow I know my grandparents are dead, so I tell him to get out. He won't listen." Sadly and fondly at the same time, she added quietly, "He was always so stubborn." She cleared her throat. "Grabbing his arm, I pull him to the front door..."

"And then?" breathed Dustin. He didn't notice he was leaning forward in his eagerness to catch every word.

"And then," she frowned. "And then the roof collapses and we die." Now silent, she picked at a pancake.

Dustin asked softly, "So that's how your father died?"

Solemn, she nodded. "Yeah."

"Hmm. Seems like you carry a lot of guilt," he said casually.

"That's how you interpret it, huh?" Destiny quirked an eyebrow with a little smirk. She sighed. "You're right. Let me guess: 'Don't, Destiny, it wasn't your fault'."

Dustin blinked, surprised by the sudden cynicism. "Actually, I was just going to say that I know how you feel, and after nearly a century, I have no idea how to get rid of that feeling. Neither of us should carry it, but..."

"It's wicked tough to get rid of." She smiled and looked up at him. "I think it takes a lot of strength to carry the guilt we do. When I was little, I had a couselor tell me to stop worrying and to get over it. People just don't seem to realize it's not that easy. If it was, we'd all be holding hands and skipping through a meadow with flowers in our hair."

Dustin laughed. "And my brother would never have had a job." Destiny laughed too. The ghost smiled his sweet little smile that made the weird, little squirmy feeling in her stomach that was beginning to worry her. He picked up her plate and placed it in the sink, giving her a moment to shake her head and clear away the feelings. As he took a step back to the table, he stared at the top of her head. He kept his eye there the whole time he was sitting down, his eyebrows furrowed.

"What?" Destiny felt the top of her head.

"You've got a bit of blond on you," he finally said. He pointed.

"Oh?" She ran her fingers through her hair and pulled a strawberry blond strand out of her brown locks. "Ewww!" Cringing, she dangled the follicle at arms length and walked over to a trashcan and dropped it in. "Ah, gross! I couldn't find my brush, so I had to use one I found in a drawer. No offense, but using dead people's stuff is disgusting." Shuddering, she sat back down.

Chuckling, Dustin chirped, "None taken."

"Thanks for breakfast--again. And dinner."

"Not a problem at all, Destiny."

There was a pause, a thick silence. Suddenly, Destiny realized their faces had moved closer together, just like during the buggy ride. The jittery feeling in the pit of her stomach returned. _Ignore it_, she thought.Quickly, she blurted out, "I have to go to work." With a look on her face that suggested that it was as unexpected to her as it was to Dustin, she kissed his cheek. Lips cold, she grabbed her purse and coat, and dashed out. When Dustin heard the door shut, he gently touched the spot her lips had brushed against. For several seconds after, it still felt warm.

* * *

"What," Destiny demanded herself as she unlocked her car door, "is your damage? Oh, using something that belonged to a dead person is nasty, but kissing one is fine," she muttered in a mocking tone. After getting in, she slammed the door and jammed the key in the ignition. She turned on the heat. Her lips were still cold. She stared out the windshield at the mansion. Last night, there had been a light snowfall. The old house looked beautiful with patches of white on it, as did the graves and leafless trees. _It shouldn't_, she thought. _Barren plants, graves, and haunted houses are not supposed to be comforting. They're supposed to creep you out and make you think about how scary death is. _

Gripping the steering wheel, she exhaled slowly to calm herself down. What was she so nervous about anyway? Was it that odd emotion that washed over her every time she saw Dustin? _Oh my God... _Could it really be? _No, no, no! _Was she in-- "NO! I'm not, because that would be wrong on so many levels! I'm just nervous about work, that's all. As soon as I'm in front of the computer again, looking over my numbers and my diagrams, everything will be fine."

_Squeerk! _

There was a sound, like someone taking a rubber squeegee to the window. Destiny turned to see three bluish-green round cheeks and three big eyes against the car window. She glared. Ezra, Gus, and Phineas had the sides of their faces plastered against the glass, looking like bizarre flounders. Her finger pushed down on the button as hard as she could, she rolled down the automatic window. Ectoplasmic drool went down with it.

"What do you want?" she asked the three men.

Phineas and Ezra clutched their hats in their hands, trying their best to look pitiful. Gus twirled the end of his beard. "We want kisses, too!" they cried at once. Ezra turned and glared at Phineas. "You have a girlfriend! Go away!"

"I'm asking her as a _friend_," Phineas clarified. "Unlike you, you sleaze."

Destiny sighed through the ensuing argument. "All right! Fine. I'll give you guys a kiss."

The quarrelling half-brothers stopped and grinned at her. "All right!"

"Go solid, er, whatever it is you do." She leaned out of the car. In a seductive voice, she said, "Close your eyes." They closed their eyes. "Pucker up." They puckered their lips. She put one hand behind Ezra's head and the other against the back of Phineas's. Then she pushed their faces together. Before speeding off, she kissed the tips of her fingers and placed them against Gus's forehead.

Finally opening their eyes, Phineas and Ezra jumped back away from each other, screaming. Ezra furiously wiped his hands over his lips, mumbling obsenities. "Ezra, ol' buddy," said Phineas. "I think our friendship just crossed a very strange line." Gus just laughed.

* * *

The elevator doors started to close as Destiny pushed the button for the top floor. "Hold it!" cried a voice. Instinctively, she held out a hand against the metal doors, nearly dropping a stack of folders she was holding. "Thanks," the newcomer breathed, catching his breath from his mad dash.

"No problem." The end of the phrase caught in her throat when she realized who it was. She stood back, near the wall. "Good morning, Mr. Jordan."

Craig brushed down his jacket and straightened his tie. "Good morning, Destiny." He cleared his throat and pulled back his broad shoulders. No one said anything. They just listened to the wordless music that droned out of a little speaker. It was "Spanish Flea." Destiny tried to recall if she knew the words or not. Then she looked up at each corner of the ceiling. Then she checked to see what floor they were on. Why, oh why, did their offices have to be on the last story? She looked over at Craig. Was he closer to her than he had been earlier? He was staring at her. Concentrating on the doors, she silently prayed that they would open soon.

Her paranoia got the better of her, and she turned her head. Craig was closer. And he was reaching an arm out towards her! She didn't bother screaming. Instead, she dropped her papers and punched him in the stomach. The move had been pure reaction, ignited by nerves rather than thought. Doubling over, he cried, "What's your problem!"

"What's **your **problem? It looked like you were going to grab me!"

Coughing, he sputtered, "You had something in your hair. I was going to get it out."

As her ex-fiancee wheezed, Destiny ran her hand through her hair and found another blond strand. "Yuck. I suppose it could be worse. They could be mine and gray." Annoyed with herself, she bent down to pick up the files. "Sorry."

"Have you ever considered meditation?" asked Craig. He was still bent double, his face over the top of Destiny's head now. "It might help you relax." Too concerned with his own lingering pain, he didn't bother to ask if she needed help.

"I didn't hear you. What did you say?" Standing up quickly, she clocked him right on the nose.

"Bammit!" he screamed, jumping back. His hands were cupped around his nose. "Ew boke et!" Backpeddling, he hit the wall. "I'm beeding!" Before Destiny could say he was being ridiculous, he pulled his hands away from his face. Blood poured out of his nostrils and down his chin. "Jebus!"

Letting her files drop to the floor again, she rushed to his side. "Okay, don't panic! It's just a...ew...little blood...all over your white shirt." She grimaced. "That's not going to come out." A quick dig through her purse produced a couple of tissues. Craig snatched them from her hand and tried to stop the crimson cascade. It was to no avail and he quickly threw the soaked paper to the floor. Destiny quickly dialed 911. The elevator bell dinged, signaling that they were on their floor. Rolling her eyes at the bad luck, she hit the button for the first floor.

Wide-eyed, Craig demanded, "We hab oo go all da wayb back donb?"

Destiny hung up the phone after her brief call. "Well, how else do you think the paramedics will get to you quickly? You don't want to have to wait while they come all the way up there, do you?" She pursed her lips and scowled. "And don't hold your head back! All that will do is make blood go down the back of your throat, and then you'll choke and probably die." There was no sympathy or caring in her voice.

Steely grey eyes glaring back at her, he whined, "But it won't stob beeding! Blud is all ober my new suib! You bid dis bish, ficks et!"

"Fine!" she snarled.

* * *

Two paramedics were waiting outside of the elevator, looking clean and crisp in their white shirts and pants. The doors opened with a cheerful little _ding_ and Craig stepped out, his face beet red with anger and embarrassment. His nose was no longer bleeding, Destiny had made sure of that. Dangling from each nostril was a little string, which was attached to a cotton tube. One of the paramedics blinked while the other tried to hold in her laughter. "Are those," the first peered at Craig's nose, "feminine products jammed up your nostrils?"

In an attempt to retain as much dignity as possible, Craig replied, "Well, et stobbed da beedin', bidn't et?" He strode out, with the two doctors laughing as they jogged behind him to keep up. He took one last look over his shoulder at Destiny. She grinned at waved to him before the elevator doors closed again.

As soon as she stepped out of the elevator, Destiny ran into the nearest women's room. She splashed cold water on her face. Patting it dry, she slowly lifted up her head and looked at her reflection in the counter length mirror. Heart pounding, cheeks flushed, and hair slightly astray, she looked as if she had just dodged a run-away truck. "What did I do?" she moaned.

"Shoved tampons up your boss's nose," answered a voice behind her. Marie Covington's reflection crept in behind Destiny's.

"You heard about that, huh?"

"Hon', the entire building heard about that. Somebody even took a picture." Marie leaned over a sink and inspected her lipstick in the mirror. "I can't imagine that there's any woman here who wouldn't want to do what you did."

As much as Destiny disliked Marie--disliked being a huge understatement--she was curious. "What do you mean?"

Marie scoffed. "Oh, please, he's made a pass at every woman here. We all hate him."

Destiny blinked. Angrily, she snapped, "If I recall, you--"

Marie held up a hand, interrupting her. "Mistakes were made." She lit up a cigarette. "I am really sorry, and I'm being sincere when I say that." After tapping the end of her cigarette on the sink, she continued. "Honey, if I could, I'd undue it. But it wouldn't change anything if I did. I wasn't the only one. Lord knows why, out of all the women, he chose to marry you. Probably because he knew you had standards. " Pushing her ashy auborn bangs out of her eyes, she sighed. "I cried for hours that day, Destiny. I was ashamed of what I'd done, and ashamed of being used. He's a sweet talker, I'll give him that." Turning to look at Destiny, she had a little half smile on her face. Her eyes glinted, as if she had a tear or two she wanted to shed. "Guess we both learned a lesson, huh?"

"I guess so," Destiny half smiled back. "A truce?" She held out a hand.

"Sure," Marie agreed, shaking Destiny's hand. "I'm glad to get that off my chest." After putting out her cigarette, she said, "I suppose it's time to quit our girly talk and get back to work. Boss man's probably got some lackey to keep a close on us while he's gone."

Destiny smiled to herself. _Maybe there are some things you can get over, _she thought as they walked out of the bathroom. _Or at least some things that can begin healing._

"So tell me," Marie began slyly, "what lucky man gave you the rose?"

"A no body," Destiny replied coyly.

"Oh, don't be obnoxious like that! Tell me! Oh, you can't be silent forever. Humming is not an answer...Fine! I'll bug you again at lunch."

* * *

A/N: "Jebus" is a tiny _Simpsons _tribute, and that particular nose bleed cure was inspired by a _Beavis and Butt-Head _episode. Only high brow humor here, people. :p 


	30. Who Ya Gonna Call?

Chapter 29

The parking lot of the Parker Institute for Supernatural Research was almost empty, save for a few cars and two men. Koji crouched on the asphalt, his car blocking Professor Hahn's view of him. Once again, he was late, and once again, he was going to try to escape any possible chastisement. Just when he thought the coast had been clear, the professor had gone out to his car to get something. Koji had ducked in time, and was now waiting for the opportune moment to dash. Hahn ducked his balding head into his Chevy.

Koji booked.

He stumbled only once while running up the stairs, nearly falling flat on his face. However, he did manage to get inside the building and slide into his office before Hahn even looked up. Sneakers skidding on the tile, he slammed into the Parker Institute's Chief Gadget Guy, Blaine.

Blaine was Professor Hahn's younger, although much bigger, cousin. Like Hahn, Blaine had a beard, but his was thick. His red hair, too, put his cousin's to shame. He was broader around the shoulders and chest, with a thick middle. He wasn't so much muscle as just girth. Due to spending all of his time in his lab tinkering with machinery, he was extremely pale. Koji had no idea what Blaine's last name was, or if Blaine was even the man's first name. Everyone just called him Blaine--or Inspector Gadget-- and left it at that.

"Late again, little man?" the red head asked with a mouthful of popcorn. In one hand he held a greasy bowl. The other hand was busy shoveling food into his mouth.

"So what if I am?" Koji retorted smartly. Remembering who Blaine was, he quickly added, "Please don't tell your cousin!"

Laughing, Blaine sprayed various furniture and papers with popcorn chunks. "I'm not going to rat you out, Koji." Wiping his mouth, he grinned. "Did you know that in the trench coat you look like Data from _The Goonies_?"

Koji took off his coat and threw it over the back of his chair. "I always considered myself more of the Cory Feldman type." Collapsing into the chair, he propped his feet up on his desk. "What are you doing in here anyway?"

"Just wanted to tell you that we're going to be out doing some field work today. I've developed some new gizmos especially for the assignment."

"Cool. Where are we going?"

Before Blaine could answer him, Professor Hahn stepped into the cubicle. "Hmm, I could have sworn you weren't in here earlier, Mr. Wendell."

"Oh, Koji and me have been chatting for nearly an hour, cuz." Blaine slapped a hand on Koji's shoulder.

Hahn blinked, surprised and just a bit put down that he couldn't give Koji his morning lecture on tardiness. "Good. Nice to see you're willing to put forth the same amount of effort as the rest of us. Blaine, I need to see if those new prototypes are ready."

"Sure thing."

Koji watched as the two kin walked out, with Blaine chattering nonstop while shoving popcorn into his mouth. Something about what had just transpired nagged at the back of his mind. Frowning, he tried to remember what it was. At the instant he thought he had it, his phone rang. "Parker Institute for--Hi, Mom."

"Good morning sweetie. Did you have a good night's sleep?"

"Yes."

"Get to work on time?"

"In time to not get busted."

"Have a healthy breakfast?"

Pause. "Yes."

"It was doughnuts, wasn't it?"

Guilt made him confess. "Yes."

"Bavarian cream filled?" He could hear her sighing with disappointment.

"Yes."

"Koji--"

"I was running late!"

"No, it's not about that. Did you call Destiny?"

Suddenly it hit him. _That's_ what that important thing had been. Exhaling through clenched teeth, he admitted, "Tried once, but didn't get a hold of her. Completely forgot to call again. But it's no big deal. Hahn said he doesn't plan on going out until tomorrow. I can still call her later."

"For some reason, I doubt--"

Professor Hahn poked his head into the office at that point. "Oh, I don't know if Blaine told you, but I've shifted around some stuff on the schedule. We're checking out the Gracey place today. We're heading out in about thirty minutes. Get all of your notes and everything together; you're going to be our guide."

Koji's jaw and phone dropped as Hahn ducked back out. "But… I didn't get to… AW, CRAP!" Pulling the phone back up by the cord, he cried, "Mom, are you still there?"

"Yes, Koji. And yes, I heard." She sighed. "Am I going to have to leave sticky notes everywhere for you, like I had to do when you were little?"

"Mom, you're on the other side of the East coast."

"If it means preventing things like this, I'll find a way. Go and stall as much as possible. I'll call the house."

"But Destiny will be at work."

"I'm aware of that."

"Oh."

With a softer tone, she said, "Cheer up, my _koishii _Koji. Everything will be fine."

"So there's no need to worry?"

"No, there'll be plenty of reasons to worry."

"Mom!"

"What? Was I being cryptic again? Sorry. I love you, sweetie."

"Love you too, Mom. Give Dad a hug for me." Koji groaned and hung up the phone. Silently, he glared at the pile of notepads on his desk. With a heavy thud his feet hit the floor. This wasn't going to be easy.

* * *

In the foyer of Gracey Manor, the telephone rang. In the completely deserted room, something dove at and tackled the appliance, knocking it down to the floor. Ezra shimmered into being, lying on his stomach with his feet swinging in the air absentmindedly, curling the wire around his finger. The table he had knocked over was lying through his legs. "Gracey Crematorium. You kill 'em, we grill 'em. Chef Dobbins speakin'." A small part of him hoped he would have had to fight Phineas for the phone, and then compete for who had the better answering line. But his brother and best bud was chatting with Amelia again. It really was pointless, he thought, answering the phone when the average mortal couldn't hear-- 

A pleasant female voice spoke. "Hello."

Ezra pulled the phone away from his face and stared at it wide-eyed. "H--hi! Can you understand me?"

"Of course I can."

Slowly, he pulled the phone back. He was suddenly aware of how awkward he felt. Telephone manners had never been his forte. "You do realize you're talking to a dead man, right?"

"Yes, now, listen--"

Ezra screamed. "The telemarketers are psychic! We're all doomed!"

"Listen! This is Haru Wendell, Koji's mother--"

"Oh you poor, dear woman. You know, I always thought he was some kind of genetic experiment."

Even the woman who had raised Koji had her breaking point. Exasperated, she cried, "Shut up! A group of paranormal investigators is on its way to the house. Trust me on this: Just lay low. Got it?"

"Sure thing. Thanks for the heads-up." After hanging up the phone, he put the table back in its proper place. Turning on his heel, he was surprised to come face-to-face with George. "Man, you're creepy when you do that."

Graceysmirked, retorting, "This comes from a man who delights in materializing in people's cars?" Peering through the other ghost's shoulder at the appliance, he asked, "Who was on the phone?"

"Mrs. Wendell."

Master Gracey blinked in surprise, eyebrows arched. "There's a Mrs. Wendell?" he asked in disbelief.

"Koji's ma," the skeletal spook clarified.

"Oh. For a second there I thought there was some poor girl who had married him out of pity," he remarked dryly. He sniffed. "Well, what did Mrs. Wendell want?"

"We've got some ghost hunters heading our way. Are we going to let Destiny know?"

"Why? After all, there's nothing she can do from work. Besides, this is a matter between the ghosts and the ghost hunters. We can take care of ourselves."

Running as fast as his legs could carry him, Phineas ran into the foyer, upset and frazzled. Before he could zip past, Ezra grabbed Phineas by his collar and yanked him to a halt. "What's wrong with you, Phinny?"

After slapping away Ezra's bony hand, he explained. "I was just trying to get some quality time with Amelia in the ballroom, and she kicked me out!" Queeg cried it as if a crime had been committed against him. "Me!"

George crossed his arms and grunted a noncommittal, "Humph."

"Oh, what's wrong, George?" the plump phantom drawled. "Don't like the idea of me and your aunt--"

"Stop it!" George clamped his hands over his ears, his mature, calm demeanor gone. "I don't want to hear it!"

Not in the least bit perturbed by George's tantrum, Phineas continued. "Meanwhile, Gus was just trying to help Mr. Baker compose a new song." An image of Gus jumping up and down on the organ's keys came to George's mind. At that instant, the little man ran screaming down the hallway. The small skull-like wraiths that usually made their home in Baker's organ pipes were dive bombing his head, snarling and pulling on his beard.

"Go away!" the dwarf screamed, slapping at his attackers. George suspected that his imagination had not been too far from the truth. Content with the torture inflicted, the spirits flew away, back to their pipes. "We wasn't hurting anyone," whined Gus. "They just threw us out."

George titled his head to the side. "'They'?"

"Yeah," Phineas began. "Bea was there, too. She and Amelia have something planned in that ballroom. Bet you a dollar it's got something to do with Dustin. So," he quickly changed the subject, "what needs to be taken care of?"

"Ghost hunters," Ezra said quickly. "Thanks to all this jabber, they're going to be here any second and we don't have a plan. Koji's ma just said to keep quiet."

Gus snickered. "His mother."

"Well, are we going to warn anyone?" demanded Phineas. "We've never dealt with professional--" He couldn't get the phrase out without laughing. "Professional ghost hunters."

George had sauntered over to the window and was now holding back the curtain and peeking out. "Their vehicle is coming down the road now. At least, I'm guessing it's them. Who else would have 'Got Ghosts?' painted on the side of their van?" Flinging the curtains shut dramatically, he declared, "Phineas, make sure all of the doors are locked."

"You got it," the laid back spirit confirmed before jogging away.

"Ezra, spread the word." Before vanishing, Dobbins saluted the ghostly leader. "Gus--Gus! Quit playing with that Ouija board! For the last time, Marilyn Monroe is not asking you to 'get down with her' on that thing!" Rubbing the bridge of his nose, George closed his eyes and heaved a heavy sigh.

It seemed as if his quiet afterlife had become much more complicated since Destiny had shown up. The sound of car doors slamming tore him out of his contemplations. Slowly, he pulled the curtain back just a tiny bit. A small group of men stood around the large, white van, Koji among them. George hoped the young man caught his glare before following behind a middle-aged man with balding, light red hair. The ghost soon lost sight of the paranormal investigators as they walked around the side of the mansion.

* * *

"Would you look at the size of this cemetery!" Professor Hahn exclaimed. "No wonder they put graves in the front yard, this place is packed!" 

"Yeah," Koji agreed with a sigh, "it's a big graveyard all right." He kicked absentmindedly at the dirt.

They were a small group, consisting of only four men: Koji, Professor Hahn, Dr. Gipson, and Blaine. Dr. Gipson was a frail looking man in his mid forties with thin, dark blond hair, and a nervous habit of picking the skin around his fingernails. He always paid amazing attention to detail and was an expert photographer.

Blaine took off his _Ghost Busters_ backpack, unzipped it, and pulled out his latest creation. Waving it proudly, he proclaimed, "It's my new, patent pending Wave Electromagnetic Detector, or W. E. D. for short."

The others stared, unsure. "'Wave Electromagnetic'?" asked Koji.

The creator looked down at his apparatus. "My dyslexic brother named it. I didn't want to hurt his feelings, so I kept the name the same." Looking back up at them, he said brightly, "Plus, doesn't W. E. D. just sound cool?"

"So what exactly does it do?" asked Professor Hahn, tentatively tapping it.

"Detects disturbances in the atmosphere around us." Blaine turned a red knob and punched a series of numbered buttons. Upon closer inspection, Koji thought the W. E. D. looked like a mutated graphing calculator. "It finds ghosts."

The machine emitted a low hum.

"And," Blaine grinned maniacally, "they're close."

* * *

George materialized in front of the back door. He wasn't alone. Crouching on the floor, Dustin held his head up high enough so that only the top of his head and bespectacled eyes peered out a window. "Who are they?" he asked, not tearing his gaze away. 

"Paranormal investigators. Don't worry; the doors are locked." Thoughtfully, he watched as the biggest of the four took odd, beeping boxes out of his satchel. One was attached to a microphone and headphones, which the man placed over his ears. "Hmm…"

Wary, Dustin finally looked up at George. "What do you have planned?"

"Well, I was just thinking that those are probably for hearing ghosts, correct?"

Frowning thoughtfully, the Englishman replied, "I suppose…"

"Maybe if we can tell them to leave, they will. People usually run screaming at the sound of my voice."

"George, I don't think--"

The aristocratic spirit strode towards the door. Rolling his eyes heavenward in silent prayer, Dustin sprang up and followed him.

George and Dustin stuck their heads through the back door, looked around, then slowly stepped through.

"I'll never get used to the whole 'going through walls' thing," Dustin muttered as he smoothed down his coat.

George clamped a hand over the younger man's mouth. "Shh, let's watch for a moment while I think of what to say." He nodded his head towards the group.

Dustin mumbled, "'Ere's onee 'or?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," George apologized, taking his hand off of Dustin's face. "What did you say?" He wiped his hand on his jacket.

Dustin wiped his mouth. "I said, 'there's only four?'"

"Apparently."

The man with the back pack began walking towards them as he stared down at a small, beeping, box-like object in his left hand. In his right hand, he held the device with the microphone. "The W. E. D. 's picking something up!" he cried out happily. "It's right over...here!" With the antenna right on the tip of George's nose, he came to a stop.

The ghost stared down cross-eyed at the wire for a moment. After taking a step back, he bent down near the microphone. He tapped it. There was no hiss or feedback. "Hello sir, I'm George Gracey. I would humbly request that you leave."

"Blaine," Koji began. Looking down at the voice recorder, he saw that it was off.

Dropping the mike and tape player, Blaine smacked the other machine with his palm. "Stupid thing must be on the fritz again." Sticking his arm out, he waved it through George's head. "There's nothing here."

Gracey staggered after the man pulled back his arm. "God that feels weird."

As Blaine took a few steps towards the back porch, the machine beeped louder. "We have to get inside."

"No," commanded Dustin, "what you have to do is leave."

Hahn walked past Dustin and onto the back porch. After trying to open the door, he groaned, "It's locked."

George breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hey Rob!" Dr. Gipson called. "Look at this!"

"What is it?" asked Hahn as he walked to the spot at the side of the house where Gipson was standing.

"I think it's an entrance," the photographer said. Carefully, he pushed aside two rose bushes and brushed away leaves. Underneath the foliage was a set of two doors.

"Cellar doors!" exclaimed the professor. "Brilliant work!" He reached down, and with some difficulty, pulled them open

"Nice job," Blaine said as he put his backpack back on and picked up his tape recorder.

Koji stayed behind as Hahn, Gipson, and Blaine made their way into the cellar. "Isn't this breaking and entering?" the youngest asked. He looked over at George and Dustin.

"Stop them!" Dustin yelled.

"You never worried about that before," Hahn said flippantly. "Besides, we'll be out before she gets home, and she'll probably be grateful. Now, are you coming or not?"

Koji shot one last sorry look at the ghosts, then disappeared into the cellar.

"What now?" asked Dustin.

George turned and marched into the house. Dustin had to run to keep up with him. "What now?" he repeated.

Gracey stopped. "Change of plans. They want ghosts, we'll give them ghosts."

"Koji's the only one who can see us. What are we supposed to do, wear a sheet and rattle some bloody chains?"

Slowly, George smiled.

"What? No! No, no, no!" Dustin waved his hands frantically. Pointing at where the mortals had been standing, he yelled, "I will not humiliate myself for these people!"

"How about for Destiny?"

Dustin opened his mouth and looked as if he was about to say something, closed his mouth, raised a hand and lifted a finger as if he was about to make a point, then let his arm fall by his side in defeat. "Get me a bed sheet and a pair of scissors."

* * *

"Oh, you look so adorable!" Bea gushed. She straightened out the largest wrinkle in the sheet and placed Dustin's top hat so that it was on top of the part of the sheet that was covering his head. "This is just like that Halloween costume you had when you were eight." 

"This is so embarrassing," Dustin mumbled. "I can't believe I'm stooping this low. Why am I the only one in a sheet?"

"You're the main attention getter." She looked over his costume. "Something's not right...Aha!" She snapped her fingers. "Got it!" Lifting the blanket up enough to uncover his face, she snatched his spectacles.

"Hey!" her brother cried.

"Don't worry." Using her dress, she cleaned any smudges off the lenses. She pulled the sheet back down and placed his glasses in front of the eyeholes. "There, isn't that better?"

"Yeah," he admitted reluctantly, rolling his eyes playfully.

"Anything for my favorite brother." She raised up the sheet one last time and rubbed the tip of her nose against his. "Good luck, Dustin. Scare 'em out!"

Dustin grinned and scoffed under the sheet. "Scare? Ha! I'll terrify them. Scary, dear sister, is my middle name."

"I thought your middle name was Thomas."

He paused. "It is, isn't it?" he said slowly. "Dustin T. Dust. Dustin...Thomas..." Frustrated, he scowled. "If I could only remember what our last name is... Oh, and what where you and Amelia doing--"

Bea playfully shoved him out of the room. "Oh, don't worry about that now, you've got some foolish mortals to scare. Now give me your best 'boo!'"

"Bloomin' boo!"

The girl giggled. "It needs a little work."

* * *

A/N: According to an online English to Japanese dictionary, _koishii _is a Japanese word for "darling". Thanks to Jase Andrews for that Monroe quip. 


	31. BOO!

Chapter Thirty

Clairece Curmon held her candelabrum over the banister and peered down. She had searched through nearly every cranny and corridor in the mansion for her young ward. L. L.'s game of hide and seek had gone past annoying and was now far into "sick and tired" territory. The young nanny had taken the job in Gracey Manor to escape from a home full of six squabbling little siblings, and to try to make some money for herself and her family. One child, especially one who had been raised in such a high class atmosphere, should not have been too difficult to handle. True, Gracey had told Clairece multiple horror stories about all of the other babysitters the child had scared away, but she figured a scrawny ten-year-old could not be that much trouble.

When the nanny first arrived, Little Leota had tried and tested her in any way imaginable. She ran through the halls at night, locked herself in her room, or hid in crawl spaces. Clairece had tried to be nice, she had tried to keep an even temper, and she had even stooped to bribery a few times. But one night she had had enough.

It was during one of L. L.'s imaginery friend games, when the girl ran through the house, claiming her mother was calling out to her. Clairece knew that Madame Leota was supposedly in her chamber, probably conducting another seance; or as Clairece called it, "Calling forth the soon to be departed dollars from the Master's wallet". Time and time again, she told L. L., "Stop it! I don't hear anything! You don't hear anything! It's late. Go back to bed." After trying to stop the ensuing tantrum, Clairece gave up. She didn't want to deal with it anymore. She left the sobbing girl, packed her suitcase, and walked out.

It was only moments later when she heard the splash.

Dropping her things, Clairece ran to the river. Her breath formed mini clouds in front of her face and her legs pumped as fast as they could. She knew a layer of ice floated over the Irvine River at this time of year. Reaching the bank, she prayed that some of the covering had just broken and sank. Scanning her eyes through the dark night, she spied a small hole in the frozen sheet. A scream of horror escaped her lips as a thin arm and face flailed out of the water.

Clairece stepped carefully onto the frozen surface, hoping it would hold her weight. With tiny, slow steps, she eased her way across. "L. L!" she yelled. Little hands thrust out again, reaching for a hold. Grabbing them, Clairece hauled her up. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she clutched the ten-year-old tightly. "What were you doing?" She stroked L. L.'s hair out of her face and hugged her again.

"I heard mother crying! She was out here!" Little Leota's multicolored eyes were wild and frantic.

"Come on, let's go inside before you catch your death." Holding the other's hand, she began to lead L. L. back to the bank.

A sickening crack echoed through the night, followed by a splintering shatter.

The rest was a blurry memory. Freezing water surrounded them, filled their lungs. The moon was soon blocked from their sight as an ice lid sealed them into their watery tomb.

_It was my fault! I shouldn't have left!_

Shutting her eyes tightly and opening them, Clairece pulled herself out of the horrific flashback. She couldn't help thinking about it every time she let the girl out of her sight. Nothing bad was ever going to happen to L. L. again, not on her watch. Gripping her candlelabra, she made her way down the bottom of the stairs just as a ghost went rushing past, yelling something unintelligable. Judging by his hoarse voice and tattered coat, she guessed it was Ezra.

All she was able to discern from the bluish-green blur was, "Ghosthunters!" He was followed by a much plumper blur. "Iforgottolockthecellardoor!" Last, of course, was Gus. "Idiot!"

"What?" she cried back at them. The trio stopped, grinding their heels into the floor and crashing into one another. Patiently, she waited for them to pick themselves up. "Have you guys been sniffing the flowers in the conservatory again?"

Phineas adjusted his top hat. "We--" He stopped and glanced at his two sheepish friends. "_I_ have most certainly not! Some paranormal investigators got loose in the house. George says for everyone to be on their spookiest behavior."

"And what is he doing exactly?" she asked, arching an eyebrow. Once again, she had forgotten she was invisable. She didn't bother to correct the problem, though. Any energy diverted to making herself seen to the others would weaken her hold on the candlelabra. No one wanted to repeat the accident with the burning curtains again.

"Don't worry about him, miss floaty candles," Ezra grinned. "The drama queen can take care of himself."

Sighing, she muttered, "Right. If you'll excuse me, I have my own little drama queen to find. Good luck with this spooking nonsense, gentlemen." She left, leaving them to murmur happily, "'Gentlemen'? Did you hear that? She called us gentlemen! Us! Finally, some well-deserved respect!"

* * *

The four detectives of the supernatural made it to the foyer without incident. Professor Hahn, Dr. Gipson, and Blaine stared at their surroundings in awe. Koji would just have to wait it out. Gipson, the frail photographer, suddenly spoke up. "It seems a little more cobwebby than I thought it would be." He ran his thin fingers over the fire place mantel, then cringed as he looked at the dust covered tips. "I thought someone was living here." 

"I guess Destiny's been too busy to really clean the place up." An odd tingling down his spine caused Koji to suddenly turn. Bounding down the hallway was Little Leota, wearing his beloved hat. Smiling, she waved to him, apparently unaware of the three other men. Grimacing, Koji waved his hands back, but not in welcome. Through clenched teeth he hissed, "No, go away!"

Still happy, but slightly confused, she explained, "I just want to give you back your hat."

Upon her entrance, the W. E. D. started beeping. At once, ghost and ghost hunters turned and looked in each other's directions. "K--Koji," Gipson stammered, "why does that spirit have your hat?"

"Uh, she likes to wear it," he answered. The dead child slowly gave him his hat as she stared at the others with wide, frightened eyes. Her reaction made him feel queasy. Never had he seen her look scared.

"Sweet!" Blaine exclaimed, picking up his tape recorder and microphone. "Let's do a quick interview!"

"Who are these people?" asked L. L. She shot darting glances at each one. "Why are they here?"

"It's okay," Koji tried to reassure her. "They just want to ask some questions."

Unsure, she bit her lip. "What kind of questions?"

"Almost got it ready," Blaine called as he searched through his backpack for an audio casette tape.

Right then, Clairece glided into the room. "There you are! I've been looking everywhere for...you." Stopping, she looked at the men, who were staring at the floating candles. "Uh, boogie, boogie, boogie," she muttered, waving the candlelabra.

"Oh my God! Another one!" Gipson practically shrieked.

The little flickering flames went out. With a shrug, Clairece threw the candles down the hallway. She and L. L. watched as Dr. Gipson took off after it, camera in hand. Scowling at L. L., the babysitter lectured, "What have I told you about talking to strangers?" Taking her hand, she led her out.

"I got it ready!"

"Don't bother, Blaine," Koji grumbled. "They're both gone."

"Well," said Hahn, "since Gipson's already on the trail of one, I propose we split up and cover as much ground as we can." Notepad in hand, he set about inspecting the room.With the Wave Electromagnetic Detector as his guide, Blaine wandered down the hall. A white blur flew past him, and he ran after it. Koji decided to just find somewhere to hang out until the others exhausted themselves. He wondered who would get tired first: the ghosts or the ghost hunters.

* * *

Clairece studied Gipson as he walked. He was nervous and fidgety. She almost felt bad for what she was about to suggest to Little Leota. They just needed some help, and she knew exactly who to get. Whispering into L. L.'s ear, she began to set her plan into motion.

* * *

Dr. Gipson picked at a fingernail absentmindedly as he slowly skulked down a dark door-lined hallway. He had forgotten to grab his flashlight from Blaine, and he was really starting to regret it. The eyes of the hanging portraits and the leering demonic wallpaper seemed to follow him. A door handle rattled as he walked past. 

He stopped and walked backwards a few steps, turned, and stared at the door. Watching the handle, he waited for it to move again, When it didn't, he chuckled it off and moved on. It rattled again. Dr. Gipson stopped. It quit rattling. He took a couple of steps forward. It moved again. Whistling and pointedly ignoring it, he took his time to read an emboridered sigh that stated "Tomb Sweet Tomb". When the door handle began shaking for a fourth time, Gipson whirled around and let out a triumphant, "HA!"

Then every single knob and knocker twisted and banged violently as ghouls pounded on the doors. Hands trembling, he held his camera up to his face. Before he could take a picture, something snatched it out of his hands and flung it down an adjacent hallway. With a fearful glance at a suit of armor standing guard at the end of this new corridor, he scampered to his camera. It seemed to take forever to get to it. It was if this place was endless! Chortling nervously, Gipson assured himself, "It's just, uh, some kind of optical illusion." As he bent down to pick up his camera, he could feel something warm near the back of his neck. Spinning around, he saw nothing.

Clairece giggled, keeping the candlelabra out of his line of sight as he turned back around. L. L. crept up behind the man. With a jump, she floated up above his head, dangling a sheet of parchment. Then she dropped it. Gipson sprang back with an embarrassing shriek. Peering down at the floor, he mumbled, "Oh, it's just a piece of paper." He picked it up, squinting. "If only I had some light." Clairece obliged, holding the candle over his shoulder. "Ah, thank you," he said, completely oblivious to the unexplained light source. As he realized what was drawn on the paper, his face paled in fear.

At the top, it read "Death Certificate". Under the words was a crude, almost stick figure-like drawing of him holding his camera. A suit of armor stood behind it, brandishing its sword.

Clairece blew out the candles, leaving him in darkness. Quivering, he heard a noise that made his blood run cold. A metallic _clomp, clomp, clomp_ slowly stomped up behind him.Trembling like the last leaf of fall, Gipson turned. Standing behind him was the suit of armor, its sword held high above its head, the tarnish, dusty metal creaking with the effort. With a cry akin to that of a frightened chicken, the paranormal investigator fled.

Of course, he couldn't actually hear the ghost in the suit. If he could, he would have heard her say, "Oi! Come back here you lil' blighter! I'm going to use your big head as a teapot!" followed by her crazed cackling.

* * *

Dustin was running too, but he was trying to get _away _from a ghost hunter. Dustin careened around a corner, shouting at the top of his lungs. Several times he had tried to lead Blaine out of the house, and he had tried scaring him, but nothing had worked. 

"C'mon!" Blaine pleaded. "I just want to talk." Panting, he tried to keep up with the floating sheet. The W. E. D.'s screen glowed, displaying a pixelated, stick figure image of Dustin.

What the poor ghost wanted to do was fling off the sheet and hide in a wall until the deranged man gave up the chase. His current plan, however, was to exhaust him. _I'm doing this for Destiny, _he thought as he flew downstairs, back to the first floor where the race had started. The memory of the little kiss that morning fueled him on. Already, Dustin had led him past the upstairs bedrooms, and was now passing the ballroom. With a glance back, he saw that his pursuer had stopped to catch his breath. Taking this opportunity, he skidded into an open room and closed the door behind him. He wished he would have found a room with a lock.

To his surprise, he found himself in the kitchen. To his even greater surprise he found, Koji, Gus, Ezra, and Phineas standing around the table. "Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!" the ghosts cheered as Koji squeezed a tube of chocolate chip cookie dough into his mouth.

"What are you four doing in here?" Dustin demanded. "You're supposed to be trying to get rid of those psychopaths!"

The four men stared at him wordlessly.

Finally, Phineas spoke. "Are you wearing a sheet? With eyeholes?"

Dustin glared at them. "Yes."

The quartet burst out into fits of laughter. Sighing, Dustin tore off the sheet and flung it to the floor. "Some lunatic with a box covered in Christmas lights has been chasing me all over the house!"

"That's just Blaine," Koji explained flippantly. Holding the dough over his open mouth, he squeezed it. After a clump dropped in, he said, "'on't 'orry 'out phem."

"Don't talk with your mouth full!" Gus chastised him, wagging a finger. Koji looked down at the little man and opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue, displaying chewed dough and chocolate covered teeth.

With a soft groan, Dustin asked, "Do I want to know where you got that?"

"Fridge," the mortal answered simply.

Trying to snatch the roll from Koji, Dustin griped, "Please try not to pilfer from Destiny's food."

Koji just smirked at him and licked the tube. "Do you want it back now?"

Dustin sighed in defeat. "Keep it. I shudder to think what germs you've left on it."

Just then, the door slammed open and Blaine ran in, following the clicks and beeps of his invention. "Four!" he cried joyously. "There's four in here!" He looked up from the W. E. D. to Koji. "You can see them, can't you? The screen's messing up again." He smacked it with his palm. It whirred for a second, then the lights shut off, and it died. "NOOOO!"

"Is he on some kind of medication for a hyperactive, bipolar disorder?" asked Phineas. "'Cause I might have something that could help that." Absentmindedly he added, "It'll make him think he's a parrot for a few days, though."

"You haven't seen the one I was chasing, have you? He was wearing this stupid sheet with eyeholes cut in it." Blaine happened to look down at the floor. "A-ha! Here it is!" Picking it up and examining it, he muttered, "There's probably traces of ectoplasm on it."

"Eww, Dustin, that's gross!" Ezra cried childishly. His skeletal grin growing wider, he declared, "Boys, let's have some fun." Dashing forward, he snatched the blanket from Blaine's hands and held it out in front of him, crying, "Toro! Toro!" Waving it like a flag, he ran out of the kitchen. Gus grabbed the W. E. D. and he and Phineas followed Ezra, tossing the gizmo back and forth to each other.

The door creaked shut, and Koji finished the last bites of the cookie dough, licked his fingers, and then tossed the wrapper into the trashcan. After running his tongue over his front teeth, he smirked at Dustin and said, "I noticed that you stopped calling her 'Miss Chalmers'."

"What does that have to do with anything?" asked Dustin, a little too defensively.

The smirk became a broad grin. "You love her, don't you?"

Dustin averted his eyes.

"You do! You're in love with Destiny!" Koji laughed. "A ghost with the hots for the girl whose house he's haunting. That's going in the report." He noticed that Dustin was still staring at the floor. "I'm just joking with you, Dustbin. Don't get all mopey."

The bespectacled spook looked up. He was beaming and his emerald eyes sparkled. "I do," Dustin whispered. Louder, he said, "I do love Destiny!" He laughed.

"Now you're starting to scare me."

"It feels so great to finally say it out loud!"

"Please don't burst out into song. For the love of God, don't sing. Don't--Are you humming? Stop humming!" He was starting to prefer the nervous Dustin over the sickeningly happy one. "Does she know?"

Dustin became silent. He shrugged one shoulder. "I don't know. I mean, I'm pretty sure she has feelings for me, but..." Smiling, he sighed. "I finally fall head over heels for a girl and I'm dead." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "Death is cruel, chap. Enjoy your life while you've got it. If you don't, you'll be stuck here, constantly being reminded of what you didn't do and can never have."

Somberly, Koji replied. "That's deep. Did you get that off a beer coaster?"

Dustin shook his head in mild annoyance, but still smiled. "Well," he stated as if the two of them had just been discussing the weather, "we've got a job to do."

Koji groaned. "Do you have any idea how difficult it's going to be to chase those guys out?"

"Do you have any idea how difficult it's going to be facing Destiny if she finds out you brought those men into the house?"

Koji thought about this. He would be lucky if all she did was press charges. "Okay. I'll look for Hahn, and you... you do whatever it is unscary ghosts do."

Dustin opened his mouth to make a come back, then just chuckled. "Can't argue with the facts."

No sooner had the ghost vanished than George appeared beside Koji. Koji, who by now was used to the spirit's mysteriously poofing into places uninvited, let out a triumphant, "Ha! I knew it! Dustin's got a crush on Destiny." He flashed the aristocratic spirit a smug grin.

George patted Koji's shoulder. "Good for you, detective Wendell. You solved the mystery everyone else figured out two days ago."

An expression of disillusionment washed over the young man's face. "You mean, you know about that?"

"Koji, everyone knows about that. It's no more a secret than her being my descendent."

Koji stared at him blankly.

"She's my great-granddaughter."

"How long have I been out of the loop, Gracey?"

"You say it like you were in it."

Sighing, Koji said, "I gotta go talk to Hahn and try to convince him to leave."

George inspected his fingernails. "He's busy at the moment."

* * *

Meanwhile, Professor Hahn was running in a panicked circle. He had not known what he was getting into when he ran into the gallery. A hidden door in the foyer wall had opened, he presumed, just for him. The spirits in the house had been trying to tell him something, he was sure of it. But after he had walked into the room, the door had slammed behind him, sealing him in. 

The claustrophobic man clawed the walls again. In his frantic attempt, he found a small indent. Desprate to get out, he braced his fingers in the little slot and pulled, pushing a small panel to the right.

It opened up to a small staircase, which led up to a little, wooden door.

The ghosts, he knew, had wanted him to find it.

* * *

A/N: Blaine and Gipson are characters I created. 


	32. Interview with a Psychic

Chapter 31

A shrill scream pierced the air as Koji and George walked out of the kitchen. It was a cry of unimaginable, repressed fury. The unholy sound made even the hairs on the back of George's neck stand on end. It was amazing that any glass around them didn't shatter with the force of that god-awful wail. The only thing Koji could think of that sounded close to it was the shrieking of a banshee.

Koji started to follow the noise, but George hung back. His blue eyes were large and wide and his thin lip twitched. Looking up at the ceiling, he mumbled, "It's _her_."

"Her who?" demanded Koji as another scream nearly exploded his eardrums.

"Emily."

Two more yells sounded above them, both the cries of frightened men. "Blaine and Gipson," the mortal breathed. Over his and George's heads, footsteps pounded. "I don't know what your sudden problem is, but I'm going to go see what they found."

"That isn't a very wise idea," cautioned George, but he followed behind the young man as he trailed the noises up a staircase to the second story floor. Only once had Koji slowed when he spied Blaine's backpack lying on the floor, but he was in too much of a hurry to bother picking it up. They jogged to a rickety flight of stairs that were barely wider or in better shape than those leading to Leota's secret entrance.

Standing at the foot of the staircase were Dustin, Ezra, Gus, Phineas, and oddly enough, a suit of armor. The four spirits and the tarnished knight-wear turned to look at George and Koji.

With an accusing glare directed at Phineas and Ezra, George demanded, "Did you lead them here?"

"Not both of them," the plump phantom answered. A placid smile spread across his chubby face. "Just sheet boy."

"I take offense to that," quipped Dustin, not really taking offense at all. "True, he and Gus were playing monkey in the middle with that ghost detector gadget of his…"

Gus laughed. "He was the monkey!"

"And Bea chased the skinny one while swinging a sword over her head like a homicidal maniac." He smiled at his sister.

"Now that's a bit un-lady like, don't you think?" Phineas asked, playfully wagging a finger.

A metal glove lifted up the visor to reveal Bea's face. Her freckled face was beaming, despite the energy it must have taken to support the weight of the suit. "Oi! And it was bloody fun too!"

Ezra was still clutching the bed sheet with the eyeholes cut into it. Holding it up, he stated, "Dustin, why is it you were wearing this stupid disguise and your little sister figures out that medieval weaponry is far scarier than a floating blanket?" He waggled it, grinning in his unnerving way.

"Oh, would you drop it already!" snapped the Englishman, knocking the bedclothes out of Ezra's bony hand.

More screaming, three distinct voices, came from the room before them. Something heavy hit a wall and landed with a thud. "You people are such cowards," grumbled Koji as he mounted the stairs.

"'Cowards', he says," Phineas scoffed with a jerk of his thumb.

Koji flung the door open and stepped inside. "It's just a freakin' attic, what's the problem?"

"Who's in there, anyway?" asked Dustin curiously as Koji disappeared behind the slammed door.

"Emily Cavanaugh," Phineas explained. "You know, if you'd actually talked to some of the others, you'd find out that--"

"Get out! Get out! GET OUT!" The attic door flew open and Blaine, Dr. Gipson, and Koji tumbled out. An airborne vase sailed over their heads and crashed into the wall, shattering into hundreds of ceramic fragments.

"Oh, that was a family heirloom," groaned George.

"Screw the heirloom!" screamed Koji. "That psychotic banshee nearly broke my leg!"

"W--who are you talking to, Koji?" asked Gipson.

"No one," Koji lied, scrambling to his feet.

"Amazing," breathed Blaine. "We've never come across such a destructive poltergeist before. The energy in that room was practically crackling! I say we go back!"

Suddenly, there was scuffling and the screeching of something heave being shoved across the floor. It was followed by a thud as it was shoved against the door.

"Or not," muttered Gipson as he shakily stood up. Dusting himself off, he and Blaine finally noticed the armor. They turned and looked at it slowly, as if afraid that fast movement would anger it. Bea raised the blade as if to say, "Guess who?" "Oh no!" Gipson quivered. "Not again!" Nearly knocking each other over, they ran away.

Playing along, Koji sprinted behind them. Falling into step with Bea, he hissed, "Can you get them out the front door?"

Giggling, she chirped, "Righty-o, mate! Ha ha!" Laughing like a loon, she swung the sword at their backsides and watched them jump.

The others were still staring at the attic door, as if it would burst open at any second. George was almost catatonic. Any bit of color drained from his face and his lips were tightly pursed. Occasionally, they twitched up to the left. Staring at the handle, his eyes never fully blinked. One would twitch slightly, but that was the extent.

The thick silence was becoming more and more awkward. Dustin wondered if he should leave. After all, he wasn't getting quite the affect of this attic business that everyone else was. Sidling over to Ezra, he whispered, "What's wrong with him?"

Ezra put a hand on his shoulder and glanced up the staircase. It was odd how serious he could be sometimes. "There are some things even I won't discuss. This is one of them." Looking forlornly at George, he said, "It's best if we just let him be." Face slowly turning to an expression of confusion, he asked, "Hey, wasn't there another one of those guys?"

* * *

Meanwhile, Little Leota had found Blaine's backpack. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, she unzipped it and examined the contents. Most of the things--something that beeped when she touched it, a camera, a notepad, a pack of Twinkies--held her interest for no more than a second. Then one object caught her eye. It was the tape recorder, with a new tape in it. With a little help from some friends, great fun could be had with this. Giggling, she slung the bag's strap over her shoulder and skipped away.

* * *

Heart pounding, although he couldn't quite place why, Professor Hahn turned the knob of the little, shabby wooden door. Shutting it behind him, he felt blind in the darkness. Slowly his eyes adjusted to it. Faintly, he could make out the dim shapes of things floating in the air. There were spirits in this room, he just knew it! 

Hands shaking with excitement, he reached into one of his khaki pockets and took out a small night vision camcorder. It was yet another tool of Blaine's making, but he knew this one worked. He turned it on and put it to his eye. Laughing happily, he stared up in amazement at the floating musical instruments above him. Staring upwards, he began to walk the length of the room. He hadn't even noticed the table.

He nearly knocked it over, but grabbed it with his free hand just in time. Something heavy wobbled. When he looked down to see what it was, he dropped the camera in shock. "Oh, my god."

Unsteadily, he picked the camcorder back up and placed it to his wide eye. Through the lens, he could see the image of a woman's face smirking up at him. It blurred, slowed, and twisted in and out of focus, like the video from a cheap web cam. Out of the little speakers came her voice, shaky and faint, and hollow and echoey. "Good--good evening, Prof--Professor Hahn."

"Uh, he--hello," he said, his voice equally shaky. Electronic interference had nothing to do with it, though. "Who are you, spirit? Why are you here?" Standing back a bit, he held the camera up as steadily as he could. He was actually getting an interview! This was beyond his wildest dreams!

Her form flickered, twisted by wavering lines. "I--I'm Madame Leota, clairvoyant."

Hahn struggled with the sudden urge to bow. He gave in. "Good morning, Ms. Leota. Oh, tell us," he intoned dramatically as he stood up, "wise spirit, what business do you have here?" Luckily, he was able to fight the temptation to hop from foot to foot and squeal.

The gears of her mind turned, pushing out schemes that, in turn, were grinded back though again. Things would be diverted from the plan a little bit, but, oh, the opportunities that would arise because of it! Green eyes locked into his, she said in a sweet voice, "My g-good sssir, we just want to be seen." Tilting her head, she distorted grotesquely again. "People need to know we ex-exist."

With a high-pitched giggle, he crowed happily, "I knew it!" Hugging the camcorder, he added, "And I have the perfect proof!"

"Oh, sorry, Prof.," Leota cooed condescendingly. "I was thinking of something a bit bigger."

A huge harp that had been content just to hover near the ceiling came whooshing down, targeting Hahn, it's twanging notes singing his impending doom. Right before it hit him, Hahn could have sworn it was playing the _Jaws _theme. The force of the impact broke the small camera and he hit a wall, head first. Unconscious, he lay in a crumpled heap.

"Whoops," the psychic mumbled, staring at his body. "Well, at least we'll be able to have some fun when he wakes up then." Closing her green eyes, flickers of the future danced across them. "Ooh," she chuckled throatily, "I do so love broken hearts."

* * *

Gipson tugged on the door of the van, found out it was locked, and then fumbled for his keys. Blaine snatched them away from him. "Gimme those!" Behind them, Bea stepped out onto the porch, posing threateningly. In reality, she felt as if she would collapse at any second. After the other got the door open, Gipson shoved Blaine aside and clambered in. Koji thought they were acting more like two children fighting over seats before the start of the family trip to an amusement park, than respectable adults. 

"Koji! Get in!" shouted Blaine, grabbing the young man by his coat and hauling him in. Feverishly, he locked all of the doors, and sat for a moment, panting. After he had relaxed a bit, he noticed something lying on the floor. "My bag? How'd that get here?"

"Bl--Blaine!" Gipson tugged on his sleeve. "Start the car NOW!" Bea was running towards them, aiming the tip of her blade at a side window. Blaine jammed the keys into the ignition, put pedal to the metal, and they screeched away.

Luckily, for the female ghost, she was out of their line of sight now. The suit of armor crashed down around her and she dropped the sword. Weary and invisible, she floated back into the mansion. She would have to take a good, long nap to get her energy back, especially if she wanted to pull off her plan that night.

She made faces at everyone she passed.

* * *

"Maybe…maybe some music will calm our nerves." After shoving his thumb against several wrong buttons,Blaine finally hit the one tabled "TAPE". One would think an institution that relies on the most sophisticated of technology would have a compact disc player in the company vehicle. Well, some expenses just have to be skimped. 

Blood running cold, they listened to the singing emanating from the speaker.

_If you would like to join our jamboree,_

_There's a simple rule that's compulsory._

_Mortals pay a token fee,_

_Rest in peace, the haunting's free._

_So, hurry back ,we would like your company_.

With a voice that sent chills down to their bones, Little Leota pleaded, "Hur-ry ba-ack…hur-ry ba-ack. Be sure to bring your death certificates…if you decide to join us. Make final arrangements now. We've been, hmm hmm, dying to have you."

"That place is evil!" Gipson shrieked. "It's evil!"

Realization slowly dawned on Koji's face. "We forgot Hahn!"

Blaine didn't take his eyes off the road. "Screw 'im. He wants ghosts, he can stay with 'em. He'll get a ride back later."

Looking down at the cobblestones rushing past, Koji figured it wasn't a good idea to jump out. Hahn knew the way out, right? He had a cell phone, he could call a cab. Guilt nagged at Koji's conscience. He wrapped his coat around him tightly and pushed down his fedora. There would be no way he could get back, find Hahn, and get out and away before Destiny got home. And, this idea made him feel smug, he wanted Hahn to get caught. He would be the one to face Destiny's wrath!

Laying his head back against the seat, Koji pulled his hat down over his eyes, and drifted off into a nap. He dreamed of every possible humiliation Hahn would be put through.

* * *

A/N: The Leota effect was an homage to the remake of _House on Haunted Hill_. The song lyrics were written by X. Atencio, © Disney. They can be heard as you exit the ride. 


	33. So This is Love

Chapter Thirty-Two

The ghosts began cleaning things up. Ezra and Phineas put the suit of armor back together, and Gus did some light dusting. Master Gracey watched it all, strolling through and occasionally murmuring his satisfaction. Occasionally, he was bothered by a nagging feeling that he was forgetting something. But that was soon overcome by his curiosity as a sandy-haired spook staggered past. George recognized him as Manny Festation, the young Irishman who frequently gave Bea rides through the graveyard on his bicycle. In his arms, Manny held three of the five busts from the cemetery.

"And where, may I ask, are you going with those?" George questioned casually.

Manny stopped and peered over the top of the marble heads at Master Gracey. "Oh, the ballroom sir. Bea asked me to bring them. She's a wee bit too tired right now to carry anything." As he shifted the weight of the busts in his arms, they let out cries of, "Hey! Watch it!"

"And I suppose this is for a top-secret project."

"Yes, sir."

George sighed. "Just please be careful with them. They break so easily. We've never repaired poor Uncle Theodore." He watched the young man jog away. Soon, he was followed by the medieval minstrels. Holding out a hand, George stopped the bagpiper. "Let me guess, Bea sent you."

"Aye, sir, for a grand event, me and the boys were told." Peering at him, he asked, "Is there some sort of anniversary goin' on?"

Sighing, Gracey murmured, "Maybe." When he didn't comment any further, the band scuttled off. Piece by piece, it came together what Dustin's little sister had planned. He didn't know whether to gush over how sweet it was, or to feel pity.

* * *

Dustin, meanwhile, was fumbling with the sheet. Odd. He could make gourmet meals, but he couldn't fold a blanket. "Blast," he muttered, glaring at the corners that refused to properly line up. It just looked like a bunched-up mound. He shoved it onto a closet shelf. Destiny wouldn't notice or care about it.

He didn't get the chance to close the door before his hand was grabbed and he was dragged down the corridor. "Hey!"

"Sorry," said the voice in front of him. "But we don't have much time!"

Dustin furrowed his brow. "Bea?"

"Yeah." Her form flickered into being, but it was still a little faint. She came to a stop in front of the ballroom. "I have a surprise for you!" Clasping her hands together, her freckled face lit with a grin. "Oh, you're going to love this!" Pulling him into the room, she let him soak it all in.

"You're not serious?"

"Of course I am."

He chuckled nervously. Weakly, he whimpered, "Wow."

* * *

Destiny set a large, heavy, cardboard box onto the porch Lying on top of it were a few bags. Shivering, she jammed the house key into the lock. "Open! Open!" she hissed through clenched teeth, pulling the handle. When she let go, the door opened for her. Regaining as much composure as she could, she picked up the box. "Thank you," she said, stepping inside.

George closed the door behind her. "You're welcome." He couldn't take his blue eyes off of the box and bags. "What's that?" he asked, tentatively poking the cardboard.

"It's a T. V. Uh, a television set. Marie, a coworker, wanted to give me a housewarming gift. I just have to plug in everything. Given how old this place is, it's going to take some rewiring, but I got the tools for that." She nodded her chin to the bags. "Soon, we should be able to get cable, too."

Grinning, George exclaimed, "I remember hearing about this! There was talk about television before I died. No one seemed to really know what it was exactly. Supposedly, it was going to be like a miniature theater in your home."

"Yeah," Destiny smiled. "You really didn't die that long ago, did you?"

"Nineteen forty-three, right around my forty-third birthday." Whispering, he added, "Don't tell anyone I said that. People think I'm still in my thirties."

Destiny rolled her eyes. "You're as bad as my mother."

"How so?"

"According to her, she's forty and holding. Her grip's got to loosen soon; she's been clinging for sixteen years." She sighed. "Once, she even told people at a party that I was her younger sister. How pathetic is that?" Shifting the weight of the television, she asked, "Is there anywhere I can plug this in?"

After giving it a moment's thought, George suggested, "The game room. I know there's an electrical outlet there."

"Great," grunted Destiny. "Lead the way. Could you grab the bags, please? This is awkward." He took them as she mumbled her thanks. Together, they walked down the main hall. Painted portraits, eleven in all, stared at her with yellow eyes as ghost and girl went past.

"Who are they?" asked Destiny as they passed what appeared to be a grinning vampire holding a lantern. Surely, that was just absurd. But if ghosts existed, maybe vampires--

"I'm not quite sure," George admitted, interrupting her thoughts. He shrugged. "My mother painted them. Some are probably relatives or friends of the family." A withered old woman with a curled lip stared down her nose at them. Smirking, George leaned in close to his great-granddaughter's ear and said in a hushed whisper, "Eerie, aren't they?"

"Just a tad," she confessed, distracted as they passed under the glaring gaze of an old sailor.

One thing they went by made her pause. It was a crudely boarded up door with a placard above it that read "Madame Leota's Private Chambers." Curious, Destiny asked, "Did you do that?"

George nodded. "Shortly after I died. Ezra, Phineas, Gus and I found some tools and planks in the old caretaker's shed. We wanted to make certain that no one would find her." He sighed. "I didn't know there was another entrance." Growing thoughtful, he added, "She's restricted now to what she can do, but I don't want to give her any chances."

Stopping in front of a door marked, "Parlor and Game Room," he declared cheerfully, "Here we are." After walking through the door, he opened it for Destiny. Like every other room, it was dusty, housing multiple cob webs. Smaller than the foyer, it contained several pieces of well-worn furniture: Two love seats, a sofa, a card table, a billiard table, and a small bar with four stools. Behind the counter was a glass display case full of half-empty bottles of liquor.

"What," demanded Destiny jokingly, "no ping pong?"

"It's in the basement."

"Great, now all this place needs is an air-hockey table." She set the box down on the bar and George placed the bags next to it. "Where's the plug?"

"Just down there, behind the counter. There's a mini fridge plugged in."

"Thanks." Stepping behind the bar, she found the electric cooler. Getting down on her knees, she pushed it aside and pulled out the plug. She could tell exactly what she needed and what she should do. Reaching up blindly, she grabbed the bags and set to work. Always interested in new technology, George quietly watched her work. "I know they helped build planes, but I didn't think women could do work like that."

Without looking up, she said, "Yeah, and there's already been a woman president."

"Really!"

"No, I'm just messing with you."

As she was working, a game of pool began to set itself up. The balls gathered themselves into the wooden triangle and shuffled a bit. Two sticks floated out of the rack hanging on the nearby wall. Quickly two men, each holding one of the cues, materialized.

"Say," said the first in a thick southern accent, "you want to join us in a game, George?" He wore a brown derby and a brown waist length coat. Thick sideburns trailed down the side of his face and became part of a short beard and mustache.

"I'd love to, Claude," Gracey agreed, leaving his spot by the bar to get a stick.

"Are we placing any bets, gentlemen?" asked the other male spirit. A black top hat adorned his head, and he wore a matching black coat and cloak. He had a sharp, pointed chin, and a sharp, pointed goatee and mustache. "What do you say, cousin?"

"Hmm, tough to say, Huet," mumbled Claude. "We could just play for fun, of course. But," he stroked his chin, a gleam in his eyes, "we do have a woman present.

"Indeed," countered Huet slyly. "Would the lovely lady wish to partake in our little game?"

"Iffin' she would like to join us, we could up the stakes and have some real fun."

With a soft grunt, Destiny plugged in the television set. "But think of how ashamed you'd be when a woman beat you." Dusting off her hands, she stood up. "I don't think you two could handle it." She pushed a button on the T. V. and it came to life. No cable yet, but a few local channels came in. "I mean, it'd probably shatter your little macho worlds."

"I'd pay good money to see that," George smiled. "I could never knock these two off their high horses."

"Gimme the stick," Destiny commanded. George tossed one, and she caught it. "So, are we making any wagers on this?" She took the triangle off the green felt tabletop. Already, her mind was working out possibilities.

"Well," Huet winked, "if we win, we would like a kiss from the comely young lady. And not a little peck on the cheek either."

"Fair enough," she flippantly agreed. George frowned his disapproval. "And if I win?"

The cousins looked at one another and laughed. "_If _you win…?" Huet tweaked his goatee.

"What would you like, sweetie?" asked Claude. "Baby bottles? Some flowers?"

"Actually, I'd like to see you give him a big kiss. Not a peck on the cheek either. I want to see some mustache on mustache action." At their shocked faces, she added, "Of course, if you're cowards…"

"We're not cowards!" shouted Huet.

"Yeah, we accept any challenge!" added Sewell.

"Fair enough," said Destiny. "And lady goes first, right? Snooker, carom, or just casual pool?"

They blinked.

"Pool it is. Go 'till you miss, pocket the eight last?"

"Sure," they agreed simultaneously. They watched as she prepared her shot. Then they watched as she leaned over…

"Ow!" "Ow!" Sewell and Huet snarled as George stamped on their feet.

She pocketed three balls on her first shot. Her second go, she got two. Third, four. Huet and Sewell looked nervous. Finally, on her sixth shot, she pocketed the white cue ball, giving them a turn. George wondered if she messed up on purpose.

The two men played as a team, telling opportunities to one another. "That's not exactly fair," George pointed out.

"If the lady wants help, all she has to do is ask," Huet grinned.

"Do you--"

"No." It was all simple geometry to Destiny, just angles. The men may have been good on sheer dumb luck, but she knew how to win with logic. Math had been her best friend when she was a child.

Soon there were two billiards left, not counting the cue ball. They were a fifteen and the dreaded eight. Looking down at them, Destiny whistled. It was Claude's turn. "Mighty tricky, Mr. Claude."

"Oh you just stay quiet and practice puckerin' yer lips, darlin'." He sized up his shot.

"Bad idea," mumbled Destiny.

"Shut up," he snapped nervously.

"Really, really bad idea. I mean, that is a terrible, horrible--"

"Okay, okay!" He moved and hit from another angle. The white ball rolled at lightening speed. THWAK! It hit the eight ball, which quickly rolled and sailed right into a pocket.

"Told you it would have been bad. After all, if you had gone from where you were, you'd be kissing me now."

Huet pushed Claude. "You cost us the game, you stupid hick!"

"You missed as many times as I did!" Claude shoved him back.

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

Destiny didn't even bother to remind them about the bet. It was funnier to watch them argue. She ducked down behind the counter to clean up wrappers, bits of useless wire, and tools. George played with the television's remote.

Trying very hard to go unnoticed by the three other men, Dustin stepped into the room. Walking past the shouting cousins, he approached the bar. George gave him an unreadable arched eyebrow, but then sighed and went back to watching an animated program with yellow people.

Leaning over the counter, Dustin called, "Destiny?"

Springing up in surprise, she knocked her head on the counter. Rubbing the sore spot, she muttered, "Dustin, I get more injuries with you around." She chuckled and he grinned sheepishly.

"Sorry."

"What do you need?"

He opened his mouth, but waited a second before speaking. "Uh, I would like to know if you would--"

"Don't you dare say that about my momma!" Claude shouted. "Them's fightin' words where I come from, buddy! I challenge you to a duel!"

"I'll beat you like I beat you last time! On the count of ten!"

Rolling his eyes, George groaned. "Not again."

Pushing aside their coats, they pulled out revolvers that had been carefully tucked away into hip holsters. Back to back, they stood. "One…" They took a step.

"Are they serious?" cried Destiny.

"Two!" Another step.

"This is really pointless gentlemen," lectured George.

"Three!"

"They're really serious!"

"Four…five…six…seven…"

Dustin leapt behind the counter, knocking Destiny down to the floor.

"…nine…ten…FIRE!"

A bullet whizzed over Destiny's head, shattering a wine bottle. "HA!" crowed Sewell. "I shot you first!"

"You are clearly in need of glasses," snapped Huet. "I got you right in the heart...again!"

Destiny braced herself up on her elbows. Glancing at the broken bottle and the trickling red wine, she said, "Well, at least it's the same shade as the carpet. And they missed the T. V." Turning her head, she came almost nose to nose with Dustin. "What was it you were asking?"

"I…" Suddenly realizing the position he was in from knocking her down and how close they were, he scrambled up. He pulled her up to her feet. "I was hoping you would-- Drat." He picked a couple of tiny pieces of glass out of her hair. "Sorry." Before there could be any more distractions, he blurted, "I was hoping you'd join me in the ballroom."

Unexplained butterflies flittered around in her stomach. After a day like today, though, Dustin was just the person she wanted to be with. "Yeah. Okay. Sure!"

Master Gracey watched the couple walk out. There was nothing quite as amusing as young love. Except for the yellow people. He turned up the volume.

* * *

As they approached the ballroom doors, Dustin jumped in front Destiny. "Hold on a second. Let me see if everything's ready." His excitement was contagious, and Destiny could feel her heart beat quicken as the doors slowly opened. "Wow," she breathed, grinning.

Dustin peeked around at her. "You like?"

"I love!"

The room had been cleaned of all of its cobwebs and dust. The floor had been swept and mopped, and the broken plates and old food had been cleaned off the table. Even the organ pipes had been polished. The organist was seated at the instrument, with the band to his right, and the five busts on a table to his left. Like some heavenly light, the chandelier illuminated everything below it. None of the usual ghosts, the revelers and the dancers, were there. It was just Destiny, Dustin, and the musicians.

Mr. Baker began playing a surprisingly soft tune on the organ and the band struck up. Amazingly, they were familiar with something other than scattered noise making. Humming in harmony, the Phantom Five contributed to the song.

"Destiny," Dustin sounded a lot more confident than he felt, "would you do me the honor of a dance?" He held a transparent hand out to her.

Looking from his hand to his calming smile, she could feel her shyness melting away. "I'd love to." Taking his hardly solid hand, she walked with him to the center of the dance floor. Baker started playing a waltz and they spun--granted, a bit out of time--to the music.

"Sorry," she whispered, stepping through his foot for the fifth time.

"Well, they are made to walk on." Smiling shyly, he confessed, "I'm not much for waltz."

"Me neither," she admitted, grinning.

"It's rather boring, isn't it? What I like is something with a bit more upbeat tempo. Like…" He furrowed his brow. "Like what I used to listen to."

Thankfully, the band had been eavesdropping as the couple whirled past. "You heard him lads! Let's kick this bloody shindig up a notch!" Somehow, that ragtag band of musicians managed a jazzy tune. The busts caught on and started singing in time. Mr. Baker, who clung to tradition, was soon drowned out in his vain attempt to keep things classy. Grudgingly, he too, played something with a little more swing in it.

"Like that!" Dustin shouted happily. Carried away with the music, he twirled Destiny and then dipped her low. She sprang up quickly, and playfully spun through him and out his other side.

"I swing, too." She grinned at the sight of his pleasantly surprised expression as he turned around to face her. "Took classes for a year when I was fourteen."

"Oh, you couldn't be taught it, love," he said as they jitterbugged. Holding her hands, he slid her on the floor under his legs, and brought her up again. "You had to live it!" Laughing, they continued dancing, spinning through one another, jiving with the beat.

The music swelled and the ballroom dancers appeared. They seemed so out of place so…dead. They didn't move in their own, unique time like Dustin and Destiny did. They just rotated around the couple in the way they had for years.

Dustin was feeling weary, but he didn't want it to end. He felt alive again! The homesickness was gone, replaced by a sense of peace he had never experienced before. The song slowed and became quieter. With a flick of his wrist, he spun Destiny one last time and pulled her close.

She stopped, her hands on his chest. Logic told her that she should have felt his heart pounding, like hers was doing. Looking into his eyes, she realized just how much she cared about him. For once, logic could butt out for a minute and let emotion take control. In a brief moment, their faces drew closer together. Their lips met.

Just a second ago, he had been so tired, but now that energy rushed back into him. He poured every ounce of it into that kiss. For the first time in nearly a century, he felt warm. It flowed through him, melting away the icy coldness of death. _So this is love,_ he thought. In the hallway, the grandfather clocked tolled midnight. Reluctantly, they pulled apart.

"I have to work tomorrow," Destiny explained softly. It was such a horrible excuse. "Good night, Dustin."

"Good night."

Their fingertips lingered on one another until she forced herself away. She could have remained in the ballroom with him forever. Before leaving, she turned and smiled at him. Then she slowly closed the door.

"YES!" Dustin pumped his fists in the air. Exhausted and exhilarated at the same time, he strutted to the graveyard. Once, he even jumped up and kicked his heels together.

* * *

Destiny's feelings were different by the time she reached the foyer. _What have I done? _It hit her full force like a ton of tombstones. Suddenly drained, she leaned against a wall and slid all the way down, knees almost level to her chin. _This isn't right. _She wrapped her arms around her legs and tucked her head down. _I can't do this! All it'll do is hurt him. And me. We don't deserve that pain! Why did I let it go this far? I love him! But I shouldn't. He's dead! Why does it matter? Think about it. Go to Hell, logic!_

Thankfully, her inner turmoil was interrupted by pounding fists. The wall she was leaning against shook with the force. Shrieking, she sprang up. Whatever it was, it was coming from inside the gallery. Eyes on the wall, she reached over to a nearby umbrella stand and pulled out an old cane. Gripping it tightly in her right hand, she flung the panel open.

A middle-aged balding man fell face first onto the floor. Destiny screamed. He looked up and screamed. She held her weapon high. He flung up his hands in surrender.

"Please don't hurt me!"

"How the hell did you get into my house?"

"I--I came in here with my group." He scrambled to his feet. "Did they leave?"

"What group?" She still hadn't lowered the cane. "Who are you?"

"I'm Prof--Professor Hahn..." Quickly he added, "From the Parker Institute for Supernatural Research."

She slowly lowered the cane. "You work with Koji?"

"Yes! He was with me, as were two other colleagues."

Something clicked in her brain that made her feel sick. "He led you into my house?"

"Well, he led us here. We found a way in. Please, you must understand, you are sitting on a hotbed of paranormal activity. It isn't safe here! There are violent spirits everywhere!" he screamed, his eyes bloodshot.

The cane shot up again. "You broke into my home!"

"For your safety, miss! We wanted to make sure the ghosts wouldn't harm you." He sounded like he had been genuinely concerned. His sincerity allowed her a tiny bit of pity.

"Do you have a cell phone?"

The question caught him by surprise. "Yes…" he answered timidly.

She smiled. "Great." Then she frowned and snarled, " Get out and call a cab. Now!"

After the front door slammed shut, she flicked the locks nearly to their breaking point.

"He runs fast, for a heavy set guy."

Pale with rage, she turned around to face George. How long he had been there did not matter to her, nor did she want to know why he had suddenly appeared. Spooky shenanigans were not going to lighten the mood. "You…" she said in a low voice, pointing with a trembling finger. "I don't want to hear one word from you."

"But--" the spirit stammered.

"Not. A. Word." She threw the cane back into the stand, knocking it over. Not bothering to stop and pick it up, she stomped into her room and slammed the door. Then she flung herself onto her bed and cried.

* * *

A/N: If you were wondering, I did have a song in mind as I wrote the dance scene. It's Squirrell Nut Zipper's _Hell._


	34. Broken Hearts

Chapter Thirty-Three

The graveyard, as unkempt and overgrown as it was, was actually quite pretty in the morning and usually peaceful.

"DUSTIN!"

Usually.

"Wake up!" yelled Bea, pounding on the glass sides of the hearse. "Dustin!"

"What?" Dustin groaned. "Can't a chap get some sleep?" Long ago, Dustin had claimed the old buggy as his bed. Propping himself up on one elbow, he asked, "What do you want?"

"A 'thank you' might be good."

"Oh." He smiled. "I can't believe I forgot! Thanks Bea. You know, I was so nervous, but that was a good idea you had."

"Anything for my favorite brother. Well?"

Unsurely, he asked, "Well what?"

"Details!"

"Oh grow up!" he sighed.

Asher groggily sat up in his coffin. "Oi, what's all the bloody ruckus for, eh?"

Smirking, Bea explained, "We were just discussing Dustin's date with Destiny."

Asher stretched. "'Date with Destiny'? Is that some kind of metaphor?" He poured himself a cup of tea and added a touch of something from a flask he pulled out of his coat pocket.

"No, Destiny's the name of Dustin's girlfriend," their little sister teased.

"Girlfriend," mumbled Dustin, smiling. Well, he supposed she was, wasn't she?"

"Oh, is that the mortal?" asked Asher.

"Yep," Bea confirmed. "I think it's so romantic!" She sighed dreamily and took a seat on the roof of the hearse. Giggling, she swung her legs. "Our little Dusty's growing up."

"I think it's pretty bloody stupid if you ask me!" Asher suddenly snapped.

"Well we didn't ask you!" Bea shouted back.

"What's your problem?" asked Dustin. "If I remember correctly, you chased after women all the time!"

Asher cleared his throat and stared down into his drink. Softer, he said, "Well, they were all in the same state of 'being' as me." He looked up. "I mean, really think about it."

"Think about you and your girlfriends? I'd rather not." Dustin smirked.

Asher shook his head. "No, I meant, the complications of a relationship."

Bea giggled.

More playful than reprimanding, Dustin chided, "Oh, get your mind out of the gutter!"

Continuing, Asher said, "What a woman really wants is someone who can hold her in his arms and feel his warm embrace, and the heat of his breath on her neck as he whispers sweet little nothings into her ear."

His siblings stared at him, slaw-jawed.

"I had no idea you were so romantic!" Bea cried, wide-eyed.

"I'm not," Asher replied. "I just remembered what all my old girlfriends griped about." He took a sip of his tea. "So," he drawled, "what happened on your little date?"

"We danced," Dustin said wistfully.

Bea sighed again.

"Any snogging?" Asher asked mischievously.

"A kiss," admitted Dustin, reliving it in his mind.

"Slip of the tongue?"

"On the lips!" he shouted indignantly.

"Loser!" Asher laughed.

"Push off!" Dustin kicked Asher's coffin, chuckling. Then he slid out through the side of the carriage. "You gits take care! I'm off to make breakfast!"

"Doesn't it make you happy to see him happy?" Bea asked, watching her oldest sibling walk into the mansion. "Finally, we can repay him for everything he's done for us." She watched her swinging feet thoughtfully. "Just a shame it had to be after were dead, huh?"

Asher didn't say anything. He just chugged from his flask.

* * *

Professor Hahn awoke to the prodding of a foot into his ribs. Blinking, he managed to get his myopic eyes into a bleary focus. The gray, peach, and red blob slowly transformed into his cousin, who was staring down at him with mild amusement while eating a sausage and egg burrito.

Blaine swallowed loudly, then took a gulp from his cup or orange juice. "What," he inquired with an arched eyebrow, "are you doing lying on the porch? You do realize you could have froze, right?" It was an exaggeration. The weather had become a bit warmer, but certainly not warm enough to merit a sleep-out under the stars.

"Uh…" With a groan, Hahn pushed himself up. After pulling leaves off of his shoulders and brushing frost out of his thin beard, he told his kin, "I slept here last night. My key's at home." He was so wide-eyed and had such an uncharacteristic look of bewilderment that Blaine couldn't help laughing.

"You know we keep a spare in that little plastic Nessie in the bird bath." He pointed to the floating lake monster. "You look totally out of it. What happened? Why didn't you go home?"

Hahn blinked slowly again. "What did happen? Oh, right… YOU LEFT ME AT THAT HOUSE!"

"Whoa!" Blaine held up his hands. "I'm getting some negative vibes, here. Why don't we go inside, and I'll get you a hot cup of coffee? You can tell me everything. Hold this, would you?" He handed Hahn his now empty cup. Taking a bite from his burrito, he took his key out of his pocket. But before he could unlock the door, it opened, and they were greeted by the bright-eyed Dr. Gipson.

"Good morning!" the thin man greeted cheerfully as they stepped in. It wasn't a surprise. Gipson usually got there before everyone else did. He was one of those annoying morning people. While everyone else was still pouring their first cup of coffee, he'd already had four and was analyzing his photographs. Maybe all that java was what made him such a nervous wreck.

Hahn sat down at a table and Blaine disappeared into their little kitchen. "So, how'd you get here?" he called out, pouring a mug for the professor. "Why didn't you just go home?" He handed the hot cup to his cousin, who took it gratefully.

"Well," Hahn stared down at the mud colored liquid, "I just didn't feel like I should. I wanted to be at the institute when you got here, so I could talk to you before you got busy with your work. Here." He reached into a pocket and pulled out the battered night vision camcorder. "I got some extraordinary footage. I hope it's not lost."

"Nope, everything's fixable," said Blaine, taking the camera. "At least while I'm around." He left to get his tools.

Gipson took a seat across from Hahn. "Uh…" Nervously, he scratched at a piece of skin along his fingernail. He stared at Hahn's unreadable face, then back down at the table. Unable to hold it in any longer, he screamed, "I'm so sorry! I didn't want to leave you! They made me!" Hands clasped and head down, he pleaded, "Please don't fire me! I have four kids at home!"

"Gipson," Hahn said calmly, "I'm not going to fire you. And you don't have four kids. You have four hairless cats...which is really weird."

"They're non allergenic ."

By then, Blaine had come back, a screwdriver pried into the camera. "I think I got it." All three crowded around the table. Pushing a little button, he rewound some footage. It was dark and blurry, and the sound was hardly audible, but they could see the faint image of Leota's face as it flickered. This lasted for about four seconds before going blank again. "Not a lot, really."

"Shh!" Hahn turned up the volume button. "Do you hear that?" Scowling, he concentrated. "I don't remember this. It must be from after I passed out." They leaned in as closely as they could. A voice, choppy and harsh, could be heard.

"W--what do you mean…going back on the deal!" Hahn recognized the voice as that of the clairvoyant. Static made the words hard to understand, and even blocked some out completely.

A second voice he could not recall ever hearing, replied in low, butchered tones, "No! 'o more of--of this! This is… low, 'ven for me." The audio was twice as bad as it had been yesterday. The camera must have sustained more damage than Hahn thought.

"Sweetie, you can't get much lower than dirt. And you forget, I own you! I…make this hell for… If it wasn't for me--"

"If… wasn't for you, I wouldn't be 'ere!"

"Uh oh," mumbled Gipson. Smoke trailed out of the camera in little tendrils. "Shut it off before it blows!"

Blaine turned it off. "Well, at least there's something on it."

Hahn had his brow furrowed in deep concentration, his eyes staring off into space. "It's enough.'

"Enough for what?" asked Gipson.

"Enough to get a favor repaid." He grinned. "Do you think they would show just a few seconds of supposed ghost footage on the news?"

Gipson shook his head. Slowly, understanding dawned on his face. "No, they'd want more."

"Exactly."

Suddenly realizing the obvious, Blaine looked around. "Where's Koji?"

* * *

Sniffling, Destiny awoke to stuffed sinuses. She had fallen asleep crying with her head under her pillow. Why had she been crying again? Temples throbbing with a headache, she suddenly remembered. Oh, right. Eyes shut against the annoying rays of morning light filtering through the window, she remembered the events of last night. The ballroom, the dance, the kiss… Her lips still felt cold. She couldn't deny it; it had all been so wonderful! But…

She hugged a pillow and frowned. "I have to tell him now." With a groan she added, "And I'll just feel even worse!" The ringing telephone interrupted her moping. Sighing, she picked it up and put it to her ear. "Destiny Chalmers speaking…Good morning, Mr. Greskill… What do you mean suspension!…It was an accident! I was there for two days!…Yes, I know noses don't break themselves, but…Yes, thank you, it's nice to know his secretary is cheering me on…I can't afford…It is with pay?…Okay…No charges? That's nice…So, I just stay away while he nurses a wounded ego?…Fair enough…Yes, I know this isn't your decision…Uh-huh…Yeah, you too. Bye." She hung up. "Yay, a few days off. Whoo-hoo."

Dragging herself out of bed, she contemplated all that she would have to say. As she dressed, she still mulled it over. Nothing sounded right for what she needed to convey. Summoning up her courage, she stepped out and into the hall. Destiny paused before entering the kitchen. This was by no means going to be easy. She felt so heartless. Maybe she could avoid him this morning. Maybe he wasn't in there.

She sighed.

Of course he was. It seemed to make Dustin happy to make breakfast for her. He would probably be mixing pancake batter, humming some festive British tune. And he would smile when he saw her, and say, "Good morning, Destiny!" Then she would smile back because it made her so happy to see him happy and...

Throat tightening, she pushed open the door and stepped inside. Just as she envisioned, Dustin was softly singing and making hotcakes. The spirit's sweet voice was so pleasant and comforting. However, it made her feel so much worse.

"Good morning, Destiny," he chirped, giving a slight wave of the spatula. Smiling shyly, he added, "It's almost ready, love."

_Love_. It was just an English nick-name, wasn't it? Destiny couldn't convince herself. "Dustin," she began, sitting down, "we need to talk."

Flipping the flapjacks onto a plate, he asked, "'Bout what?" Slowly, he said, "Oh." Setting her food down in front of her, he started, flustered, "I'm really, really, sorry about those men getting in! I assure you we had no control over that. We tried the best we could to--"

Destiny blinked. She had actually forgotten about that. Her mind had been so preoccupied with the events of the evening that the ghost hunters just seemed so unimportant. "No, it's not that Dustin. They couldn't do any harm...to you, and you couldn't do any harm to them." Words just suddenly started flowing out, uncontrolled by real thought. "And you couldn't do anything to them, because you're dead. There's a lot of things you can't do because you're dead!" Tears made her voice ragged. "You're just a ghost after all."

Brow furrowed in confusion, his smile had wavered slightly. "Is--is there something wrong?"

"Dustin." She tried to wrap her hands around one of his. Sighing heavily, she blinked away tears. "I like you, I really do..."

"Yeah." It was starting to get difficult to keep grinning. Something wasn't right.

"But..."

"But what?" he chuckled nervously.

Brown eyes boring into his, she whispered, "It can't work." She regretted it the moment it left her tongue. His whole form seemed to slope downward, from his eyelids, to his lips, to his shoulders. "It isn't," she could feel herself start to cry again, "it isn't the physical thing. Well it sorta is. I'm not saying I'm against this because you're not, well, corporeal. It's deeper than that. Dustin, what do you think it would be like to watch me age each year while you stayed the same? You would remain young and I would become an old woman. And when I die, I might go to some great beyond and you would still be here."

Staring down, he mumbled, "That would be torture." He looked up, trying to hide his devastation. "I hope I can at least keep making breakfast for you," he tried to joke.

It was more painful than she thought it would be. If only something could--

Someone knocked at the door. It was to the tune of "Tainted Love." With a half hearted smile, Destiny got up to answer it. She wasn't surprised to see Koji. And when she did, the anger she had felt last night boiled up again.

Wringing his fedora in his hands, Koji guessed, "You found out, didn't you?"

Seething, Destiny growled, "How'd you guess?" As he stepped in, she demanded, "What were you thinking, letting them into my house?"

"I didn't! They found an unlocked door!"

"You brought them here!" she pointed at him.

"You knew I was investigating the mansion!" he pointed back. "Did you think all that would happen is that I'd jot down some notes and call it a day?"

"I would think that someone who is supposedly my friend would have enough respect for me and for them"--she gestured to the house in general to indicate the ghosts--"to get my permission before breaking in! Or did you by chance think that maybe I didn't want some greasy, Ghostbuster rejects touring my home! Those nerds could have been plundering through my underwear drawer for all I know!"

"They wouldn't have done that," Koji smirked with a chuckle. Suddenly completely stone faced, he added, "Trust me. The only woman that would interest these guys is the Bride of Frankenstein.

"Look," he sighed and stared down at his sneakers, "I came by to apologize." There was a sarcastic gasp from the hall. "Shut up, Dustbin!" he yelled at the eavesdropping spook. His attention back on Destiny, he continued, "And I wanted to let you know there's something very bad in your attic."

"How bad?"

"Like banshee from the nether regions bad." Pulling up the legs of his baggy jeans, he showed off his bruises. Dropping them, he said, "I know it's a woman wearing white who's touchy about space. That's it. She flung priceless antiques at me and two other men! I wanted to warn you. I mean, poltergeists can be very dangerous. I know people who have gotten really messed up dealing with them." He was unbelievably sincere.

Destiny's brow was furrowed in thought. "Dustin," she asked the ghost, her voice wavering slightly with awkwardness, "do you know who it is?"

Equally quiet, he responded, "I don't know. Phineas mentioned that it was Emily…" He scowled thoughtfully, trying to remember. "Emily Cavanaugh, I believe. She seemed to have George anxious. Odd, he doesn't worry easily."

"Hmm, unless it concerns him being embarrassed about females," Destiny mumbled. Looking up, she said louder, "I'd like to meet this Emily, or at least find out why George would be so upset. I doubt she's really some bloodthirsty ghoul. The attic, right?" she called over her shoulder as she strode away.

Koji dashed after her and Dustin brought up the rear. "Did you not seen the giant, blue and black bruises!" the detective shouted. "She will throw you down the stairs!" He followed Destiny up to the second story, clomping loudly in hopes something would be roused and scare the woman. Both Detective Wendell and Dustin stopped at the base of the stair well, watching Destiny continue on up to the little wooden door.

Suddenly, George materialized, blocking the entrance. "What do you think you're doing?"

"How'd you know I was here?" she asked, confused.

"My meddling mortal sense was tingling. Now, answer me: What are you doing?" he growled.

"I'm going to meet Emily," Destiny answered determinedly. "She's another one of your secrets, isn't she?" she accused.

Frowning, he snapped, "It's none of your business. I have divulged a lot of information to you, Ms. Chalmers," he was careful not to say granddaughter, and instantly felt bad when he saw a flicker of hurt in her eyes for it, "but if I leave anything out, it's for good reason."

"For you, maybe. But it sounds to me like she's in pain. Why else would she lash out?"

Helpfully, Koji volunteered, "'Cause she's psychotic?"

"And she's dead. Why would she keep herself locked in a room she could easily leave?" Her voice softened and turned to one of pleading. "Please, let me see her for myself. I just have this feeling. Maybe if it's another woman, she'll be calm. If not, I promise I won't go back. I've pretty much kept to myself when it comes to the, uh, residents. In fact I've been pretty mellow about the whole thing, you've got to admit." She stared into the ghost's eyes. "Please George?"

He tried to avert his gaze. "Oh, ugh, puppy dog eyes! Fine." With a huff, he stepped aside. "I'll have you know I'm not setting one foot in there if anything happens," he stated as she knocked on the door.

"Coward," sneered Dustin.

"Oh, you're a knight in shining armor, now, are you?" George retorted.

"I wouldn't go back in there, either," Koji snorted "Not with that crazy psycho-witch."

Destiny ignored the men as she pressed her ear against the door. "Emily?" She knocked lightly. "Emily, are you in there? I'd like to talk to you."

"NO!" came the reply.

"Please, I'd just like to help. I'm not like those men from yesterday."

"Ooh! I hated those icky men! Especially the short one!"

The two male ghosts had a good laugh at Koji's expense.

"Well," Destiny stifled her chuckles, "he won't be coming in. It's just me. No notes, no cameras; just me and you talking. What do you say?" She waited in a moment filled with silence. From the other side came a loud shuffling noise, as if something heavy were being pushed aside. Taking a chance, Destiny turned the knob and pushed open the door. With a departing glance to the others, she stepped in, closing the door behind her.

The attic was cluttered, filled with knick-knacks spanning eras. Piles of junk spanned generations. There were racks of clothes, stacks of books and magazines, discarded musical instruments, a boudoir, a dress dummy, rolled up rugs, faded paintings, toys, a metal birdcage with twisted bars, and--Destiny cringed--bats. The little black fuzz balls hung upside down in one corner, taking their daytime nap. In the attic, the dust and cobwebs were four times worse than any other room. Light filtered in through a broken widow on the other side, but did little to make the place bright.

"BOO!" shouted a blue blur as it sprang up from behind a box.

Destiny didn't even flinch. "What's wrong? Couldn't hack working the hallway?"

The ghoul glared at her with his bulging eye. "This is classic lady, show some respect!"

"Wait a minute." Destiny quirked an eyebrow. "Aren't you in the graveyard, too?"

"No, I got a twin brother that spooks there."

"Ah. Have you seen Emily?"

"Emily? You want to talk to Emily?" he asked in disbelief.

Deciding it would be wise not to use sarcasm, she sighed, "Yes."

His one open eye wide with something other than just being hideous, the springing specter pointed wordlessly over Destiny's shoulder. Very faintly, she could hear the beating of a heart. It was a cringe inducing noise, one that made goose bumps rise along Destiny's arms. She turned to confront the spirit, wearing what she hoped was a friendly smile. "Hello Emily." She hadn't known what to expect, but it wasn't this.

Emily was in fact wearing a white dress--a wedding dress to be precise. It trailed out behind her, it's ghostly lace flowing over and through the clutter. Her platinum blond hair fell in curls around her heart shaped face. The bride's veil was pulled back away from her face, completely revealing her youthful features. A glowing red heart thumped loudly, illuminated through the gown. In her right hand, Emily held a bouquet. In her left, the vase she probably got it from.

Holding the vase threateningly, the apparition said, "No tricks! I've got great aim!"

"So I've heard," Destiny replied calmly. With her eyes on the tense young woman, Destiny slowly took a seat on a trunk. She patted the spot beside her. "Why don't we talk?"

Emily put the vase down on a table, dropping the flowers back in it. "All right. But no funny business." She twirled a lock of hair around her finger and chewed on her bottom lip worriedly, then she quickly plopped down beside the live lady. "So you're not with those men from yesterday, right?"

"No, I didn't even know they had been here until last night. I live in the mansion now. My name is Destiny Chalmers." She held out her hand.

A little unsure, Emily took it. She shook it a bit more enthusiastically as the other woman smiled. "I'm Emily Cav--er, Gracey. I guess. I'm not sure exactly. 'Till death do you part, you know." She giggled. Physically, she was at least eighteen. Socially and emotionally though, she acted like a shy fourteen year old.

"Gracey?" Destiny's jaw dropped. "You were married to George!"

"Don't say his name!" Emily shouted, clapping her hands over her ears and stomping her feet.

"I'm sorry!" Destiny cried, shocked. She watched as the girl wrapped her arms around herself. Emily had some serious problems that needed to be dealt with. Much more calmly, Destiny asked, "What happened?"

* * *

"The war was finishing, that's what I remember most from the time," George began. Koji and Dustin listened attentively. "I didn't fight, of course. I was forty-two by then, a bit older than what our nation would want. Not to mention I had name and status." He smiled smugly.

"Good for you." Dustin's voice dripped cynicism. "Why should rich, grown men have to lie in trenches with bullets raining down when a poor, sixteen year old boy could be put in his place?"

Arching an eyebrow, George didn't have a smart reply. "I'm sorry. I suppose I was a bit crass," he apologized to the veteran. "But it is the truth." He cleared his throat. "I had suffered from the Depression, although not as much as I had from the services of Madame Leota. I paid her almost every cent I had. The stock market crash only added to my troubles. World War II had indeed helped the economy, but I was on the verge of destitution. But I digress.

"After Asher's death, I had taken on a new partner at the law firm where I worked. His name was Rick Cavanaugh. Like the Graceys, he was from old money. Knowing the stock market and carefully studying it, it seemed he had played it safe and stashed most of his cash secretly. The old miser kept it hidden until the war had been declared. Although not as wealthy as he had once been, his money began to accumulate quickly through some business dealings on the side. Some said it was from selling weapons to the Italians and the Japanese, but it's never been proven.

"Anyway, I had lunch with Rick and his family one day and got to meet his eighteen year old daughter, Emily. She was a pretty, flirtatious, albeit a bit nervous, girl. Too energetic and young for my taste, really. We were civil towards one another, but the thought of marriage never crossed my mind. Later that evening when I got home, I told Leota all about Emily. I'd mentioned Madame Leota to her because she was worried about a boyfriend who had been drafted. The psychic said she'd be delighted to give the girl a reading…"

* * *

"She told me my Rodney had been killed! Got shot right in the head!" Emily sobbed. "And that he was happy now and in Heaven." She wiped her nose on her sleeve. "Then she said that Rodney told her that I should get married right away to"--she shuddered-- "Mr. Gracey. I hardly knew him! He was just some old guy Dad worked with. He was handsome and had a nice voice, but…Marriage?"

* * *

"It was a few days after their meeting that Madame Leota suggested that I marry the girl."

Koji curled his lip in disgust. "Eww, dude you were old enough to be her dad!"

"Exactly. I didn't want to. I had no feelings for her. But then Leota explained how I'd get so much money out of it," his voice wavered, "and I was still reluctant. But the more she talked, the more appealing it became. I didn't want to! I know I didn't want to, but I agreed anyway!" Eyes staring into the memory, he said wistfully, "From then on, it felt as if I was looking out my eyes, but I wasn't in control. The next time Emily and I met, I remember asking her to marry me. She agreed. God, I wish she hadn't! I wish her father had said 'no'." As if suddenly weak, he leaned against the wall and stared down at his feet. "Then came the wedding night…"

* * *

"Oh, god, I was scared! During the entire wedding, I was screaming inside. I didn't want to marry him! He was too old. I didn't know him. I wanted to do what Rodney said, though. I had loved him, and I knew he would only want me to do something that was in my best interest." She wrung her hands. "I admit, it occurred to me once or twice that maybe Leota had been lying, but it all seemed so real when she told me. There was music and shiny lights, and when she stared into my eyes, I swear I saw Rodney looking back at me." Debating on how to continue, Emily paused in thought.

Finally, she unfolded her hands and spoke again. "It was storming bad that night, so the honeymoon was going to be here." She turned to Destiny, shame in her eyes. "I may be naïve, but I know what happens when people get married, and I didn't want to…" Tears streamed down her pale cheeks. "He was so much older, and I couldn't even stand kissing him! I had never ever been _been _with a man before; I was terrified!" Her heart flittered frantically.

"Oh, sweetie." Destiny felt tears filling her own eyes as Emily threw her arms around her neck. She hugged her back.

"Ms. Chalmers, you're a woman, so you understand, right? You don't think I'm a coward, do you?" she asked worriedly.

"No, I don't think you're a coward." When the girl looked up, Destiny prompted, "What happened next?"

Her misty gaze now on the attic, Emily smiled. It was a desperate, mad grimace. "I came up with a plan! I told him I wanted to play hide and seek. I figured it was a great way to stall because the mansion is so huge. Plus, if it took long enough, he'd be exhausted. What better place to hide than the attic? There's so much junk and it'd be the last place in the house to look."

* * *

"So I agreed to her little game. I figured she was just being playful. So I gave her two minutes to hide, and decided to start at the top.

"The closer I got to the attic, the more dizzy I felt. Then there was that sensation again, that feeling that I wasn't in control. I stumbled into the attic and immediately found her hiding in a pile of blankets. I pulled her up and this--this rage just took over! Everything became hazy."

* * *

"His eyes," Emily trembled, "they had this bright green glow to them, like a demon. He…he put his hands around my neck," she mimed it, her words broken with sobs, "and he squeezed my throat and shook me. I scratched him and kicked him, but he didn't let go. And then, my vision got blurry and everything went black."

* * *

"I came to. I mean, it felt like I had just woken up. There she was, the side of her head laying against my hand. I had choked her! I dropped her on the blankets and tried to resuscitate her, but nothing worked. She was alive, though. I could hear her heart beat. I told her I'd be right back with help and I ran out. I phoned an ambulance. Because of the storm, it took a long time for them to get here. I took the paramedics up to the attic, but we couldn't find her. It was as if she had vanished."

* * *

"I opened my eyes and it was dark and hot. I tried to sit up, but hit my head on a ceiling. I was locked in a trunk." She looked down at her seat. "This one actually. Oh, don't worry, I'm not still in there." Destiny sat back down. "I couldn't scream, or make any sounds, so I clawed and pounded on the lid. Soon, I couldn't breathe and I died. Just like that." Eyes narrowed, she growled, "George Gracey killed me!"

* * *

"After searching for hours, I noticed a bit of lace sticking out of a trunk. We opened it up, and there she was." George could feel his throat tighten. "Her fingernails were peeled off and there were scratches in the lid. Her fists were bruised. Poor kid." He swallowed. "And that's what she was, just a young girl. I haven't been able to go up into that attic sense." He stared at the door.

The other men were silent until Dustin spoke up. "Who really killed her?"

"Why, Leota, of course." George faced them again. "She slunk in after I left and shoved Emily into that trunk and locked it. It took a crow bar to get it open again. She was planning on getting the money we would get from Rick. I refused it, though. Told him I couldn't take it." He whistled. "That got her pretty mad. It was shortly after Emily's funeral that she told me. And it was that same night we both died."

A click and a slow creak made the three men turn. Emily stood in the doorway, as radiant as ever, her heart beating a steady rhythm. Smiling demurely, she put one hand on the banister and gracefully descended. "Miss Chalmers has told me that as a strong, independent woman, I shouldn't lock myself away from the rest of the world, but confront my fears." Stopping in front of George, her smile turned into a frown. "And I should forgive and forget."

With speed usually associated with a striking black mamba catching a mouse, she punched him in the stomach. When he bent over, she elbowed him in the back. Then she kneed him in the groin. "But according to _Kung-Fu: Volume Five, _the way to inner peace is to kick your enemy's ribs out through his back."

"Wow," Destiny breathed from the doorway. "I didn't expect her to do that." Springing down the steps two at a time, she got there just as Emily gave George a final kick in the ribs as he lay moaning on the floor. "Who knew there were martial arts guide books in the attic?"

With a satisfied little, "Humph," Emily stepped back and smoothed down her dress. "I feel lots better," she declared happily.

Dustin hoisted George up. "I don't think he deserved that. True, he's arrogant"--George moaned.-- "vain"-- "Ow!"-- "and at times overdramatic--"

"Please Dustin, my pride is all I have. Let me nurse it back to health first!"

Quickly, Dustin finished, "But I think there's been a big misunderstanding, Miss Cavanaugh." As he dragged George into the parlor, he and Koji explained George's side of the story to Destiny and Emily.

"Oopsie," squeaked Emily. "Sorry George," she winced.

"'S all right," he wheezed. Dustin had lain him on one of the loveseats and tried his best to make him comfortable. When Emily tried to fluff a pillow for him, he snatched it and curled up into a fetal position, clutching it to his stomach. "I want to die."

"You're already dead." Destiny turned on the television. "Here, why don't you watch while you rest, okay?"

He gave little, short nods, his eyes big and teary. Then suddenly he sat up. "Oh my god!" Then he bent over in pain. "Oh my god. Shouldn't have done that. Ow." He pointed to the television screen and everyone looked.

A shaky hand held camera bobbed up and down as it followed a balding middle-aged man up the driveway of an old, Dutch Gothic mansion.

"Hey," said Emily brightly, "it looks like our house."

"It is!" Destiny glared at the man on the screen and turned up the volume. Another man, this one in a bad blue suit and clutching a microphone dashed up the front steps. "You have got to be kidding me."

The man with the microphone grinned into the camera. "Greetings, viewers! It's Lennie Weinrib, your daring, on the spot reporter with my good friend, Professor Robert Hahn from the Parker Institute for Supernatural Research. The professor has something very special to show us, don't you Rob?"

Hahn took the mic from Lennie. "I do. Folks, this is a genuine haunted house…"

"Look, E, we're on T. V!" Phineas cheered. He and the usual gaggle of ghosts were crowded around. Word traveled quick amongst them, and as soon as the words, "Emily laid the smack down on Gracey" were heard, everyone had run in to see what happened. The pitiful truth of the fight lay in front of them, but ragging on George could wait. This was much more exciting.

"Hey, down in front!" Ezra snapped at Claude. When the country bumpkin didn't comply, Gus flung his ball and chain around the man's knees and pulled him down. "Thank you, Gussie."

They all watched, shocked, as the footage of Leota that could be salvaged was shown. "Well, I'm sure everyone wants to see more than that, Rob," Lennie chuckled.

"Oh, I've got something much bigger in mind, Lennie." Hahn knocked on the front door. Destiny groaned as it echoed.

"Let's just not answer," said Koji.

"They know we're here," Destiny said, frustrated. "Look, both my car and yours are right there on camera."

Slowly becoming more nervous, Hahn called out, "Open up Ms. Chalmers! I've got a surprise for you!"

"Oh, I've got one for you too," she growled.

"Koji, I know you're here, too!" Smirking slyly, he drawled in a sing-song tone, "Are you and Ms. Chalmers doing some investigating on your own?" The others around him laughed at his suggestive joke.

The color drained from Destiny's face. "I'm going to kill him! Then, when he dies, I'm going to watch you guys pull him apart." She mimed ripping him to shreds. Then, she took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Okay, here's what we do. Since, they're not going to leave unless they're let inside, I'll let them in. Then you guys," she pointed to the ghosts, "stay in here. No one, I repeat, NO ONE is to go anywhere near the cameras. Stay in here. Watch me humiliate myself, okay. Koji," she grabbed his wrist, "you're coming with me."

"Aww, why can't we just sic Emily after him?"

Destiny put on her best smile and slowly opened the door. "Hi, Professor Hahn. Koji and I were just discussing you."

"You were?"

"We were?"

"Yes, we were." She chuckled nervously and stepped on Koji's foot.

"Ye-ow, yes, we were talking about the bizarre lack…of…any kind of spiritual entities… whatsoever." He smiled. "I haven't seen a place so empty since Blaine ate that double bean burrito and cut one off in the photo lab."

No one laughed at his tasteless joke, except for Ezra, Phineas, and Gus, who were in hysterics.

* * *

Meanwhile, someone else was watching Destiny with extreme interest.

Craig sat up a little straighter in his king-sized bed, letting his box of imported chocolates slide down his silk sheets and fall onto his Caravaggio rug. "Desdanee?" His nose was still heavily bandaged. Although it hurt ever so slightly, he grinned. This was perfect!

* * *

"I have no idea what he's talking about," said Destiny. "I haven't seen any ghosts, and I certainly didn't give this man permission to come into my home yesterday."

There was a gasp as the camera turned to Hahn. "In agreeing to let us investigate your home, you consent that we can enter whenever we feel it is in your best interest. It's not our fault that you don't read the fine print."

"What are you talking about?"

"It says so on our website. If you didn't bother to go check it out, it's on you."

"What website? Look, what you did was illegal--"

"Not according to our lawyers."

"What lawyers?"

"The ones we're going to hire. I suggest you get one too."

"Why can't you admit you're wrong? Look, do you see any ghosts? Any floating sheets?"

"As a matter of fact, Blaine said he saw a floating sheet!"

The reporters laughed.

"No, really! It was floating! I'll bet if we find it, I can find traces of ectoplasm all over it!"

* * *

The hitchhiking trio was collapsing and holding their sides with laughter. "That ectoplasm thing never gets old!" Ezra snorted, clapping Dustin roughly on the back.

L. L. turned to glare at them. With a finger to her lips, she hissed, "Shh!" From her seat next to George, she leaned forward and turned to volume up.

* * *

"Are you sure one of your men wasn't just running around wearing a blanket?" asked Destiny. "Are you that desperate for photos that you fake them by having someone dress up? I mean, I bet that camera footage was really your girlfrie--sister," that got a chuckle, "with her head sticking up through a hole in the table. Why are you wasting everyone's precious time? These reporters could be spending their time doing something better, like interviewing the mayor about unveiling a new Yankee Candle shop. Or attending a concert benefit for canker sores. You know--" The words caught in her throat as she watched a new figure stride into the room and up to Destiny.

"Craig, what are you doing here?" she demanded. He was wearing a robe, nightclothes, and loafer slippers. "Your nose is still broken. And you're wearing those god-awful red pajamas I got you for Christmas. Hey--"

He pulled her into an embrace. Luckily, she thought quickly and turned her head so that his lips just caught her ear. "I camb to beg your forgibness an' ask for your hamb en marr'age." He dropped to one knee and grabbed her hand. "Desdanee, will youb mar-ee meb?"

"What?" cried Destiny.

"What?" cried the news crew.

"What?" cried the ghosts.

"What?" cried over thirty thousand viewers at home.

Trying to pull her hand from his strong grip, Destiny grunted, "No!"

"Are youb sure 'bout that?" asked Craig, gesturing to the camera.

Destiny could feel herself begin to hyperventilate. He was doing this on purpose! He knew how she panicked, especially in front of people. If he thought she would say 'Yes' like she had last time, just because a bunch of people were watching and everything was so sudden, he had another thing coming!

"No…"

"Aw!" groaned the news team. "Quit being such an ice queen!" shouted the camera man. They began to chat, "Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!"

Lennie's cell phone rang and he answered. "What? Fantastic!" He flipped his phone shut and hissed to the camera man, "Our ratings are going through the roof!"

With the cheers, jeers, lights, and Craig smirking at her, Destiny could feel herself getting more and more lightheaded. Her throat felt tight. She couldn't breathe.

* * *

"Don't do it!" squealed Emily.

"I've had enough." With determination, Dustin strode out of the room.

"Hey, where are you…Oh." Phineas looked at the screen. "There he is!"

"Don't botch it up mate!" yelled Asher.

* * *

"What do youb say, Desdanee?" Craig felt something tap his shoulder. He turned around, but didn't see anything. "Well, tha' wab weirb…" Then he felt a fist hit him square in the nose, knocking him down. "Holee shib!" he screamed, his hands cupping his face.

"Don't you ever treat a lady like that again!" Dustin commanded. Grabbing Craig by his pajama collar, he hissed, "Or so help me, I will haunt you for the rest of my afterlife and make life miserable for you until you die, then I will beat you into a little ectoplasmic pulp every day for eternity!" He dropped him roughly on the floor.

Jaw dropping, Dustin suddenly seemed to realize what he had done. "Oh, bloody hell," he whimpered to the camera.

"That's it," said Ezra. "Cover's blown."

"Havoc time?" asked Phineas.

"Havoc time."

"Gus love havoc time!" Cackling, the three rushed out.

The shortest spook slammed the metal ball into the cameraman's legs, making him drop the camera. Phineas and Ezra picked up Craig by his arms and dragged him across the floor. The onlookers gasped with amazement. Everyone scrambled to pick the camera up and get it running again after the fall caused it to turn off.

"Look pal," said Ezra, "you got good taste in women, I'll give you that."

"But you need to learn how to treat a lady," Phineas added.

Gus dashed in front of them and opened the door. "No…" Ezra and Phineas hoisted him up. "Means…" They pulled him back. "NO!" They tossed him, flinging him into his car door. He hit with a groan, and slid all the way down, crying.

Koji bit his lip. How were they ever going to counteract this? The camera beeped a few times and came to life. Koji stepped in front of it and yelled, "STOP!"

Everything suddenly halted. One could hear a tear drop hit the floor, it was so quiet. Unfamiliar with so much attention, Koji stuttered. "Uh, he--hi." He cleared his throat. "Hey, I'm Koji Wendell, from the Parker Institute of Supernatural Research. And I would just like to say that I'm sorry."

Everyone shot each other confused looks. "What are you talking about?" asked Hahn.

"I set this up. Well, not the news crew. All the ghost stuff. The head in the crystal ball? That's just a Styrofoam wig stand and a film loop on a projector. The floating instruments are on strings. That guy crying like a baby on the dirt there? Actor." Craig was in too much pain to object. "That coffee that just got knocked out of that intern's hand and onto that ugly blue suit? Well, that kid's probably just a klutz. Awkward phase in everyone's life. But she," he pointed a hand at Destiny, "had nothing to do with it. I pretended to be a cable guy and when she wasn't looking, set all that crap up. Hahn had nothing to do with it either." The professor's face was beet red with rage. "Yeah, I just wanted to pull a big hoax. Figured it'd be my break, you know? My name in a headline. My own Sci-Fi channel series." He chuckled weakly. "I'm really, really sorry, everyone. Sorry I wasted your time and betrayed your trust, especially you Destiny. I'm sorry."

Lennie made a gesture with his hand and the camera was shut off. The crew started to trudge out, carting out all their equipment. Sobbing, Craig drove himself home.

"Wendell!" Hahn growled. "Give me your badge!"

Koji didn't even bother with an excuse. He took out his wallet and flipped it open. With a struggle, he finally pulled out his ugly, plastic green badge. "Here." He slapped it into Hahn's palm. "Stupid thing never glowed in the dark anyway."

"I will see to it that you will never work in the field of the paranormal again!"

"Yes, sir." Koji watched, stone faced as Hahn stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Sniffing, he wiped tears from his eyes. "Well, there's that career down the tubes." A chuckle didn't hide the soft sob.

Dustin put a hand on the young man's shoulder. "Brilliant work. I can't express how noble and brave that was."

Smiling, Koji said, "Thanks Dustbin."

"You're welcome, Koh-Gee. Come on, I'll make you a hot cup of tea. Seems like everyone could use one," he added, glancing at a shaking Destiny.

Before Koji could follow him to the kitchen he was stopped and nearly fell over as his legs closed together. Gus grinned up at him, his arms wrapped around Koji's legs in a tight embrace. "Ahh! Ezra, call him off! He's hugging me! Eww!"

L. L. giggled as she swooped down and snatched his fedora off his head. She put it on, and then perched on his shoulders, her legs dangling around his neck. After shaking Gus off of him, he grinned up at the little girl and put an extra bounce in his step as he walked to the kitchen.

* * *

After eating half a dozen cookies and paying Destiny back for the roll of dough he stole, Koji left. Once again, Destiny and Dustin were sitting alone at the little table. She looked down into her tea, putting together what she should say.

"Thank you for coming to my rescue." She smiled. "I don't know what happened. I just froze up again." She chuckled dryly. "My heart is still pounding."

"You're welcome." He smiled back. "I'm sure you could have done without my help."

"Not that time, I couldn't. I don't know what it is, I just panic. But I did do better than last time." Beaming, she said, "I did say no. That's a start. Granted, I'll be surprised if I ever get my job back."

"Destiny, I've been thinking a lot about what you said this morning, and I agree that there are a lot of…_peculiarities _about our relationship. But," he looked up, wrapping his transparent fingers around hers, "can't we at least enjoy this while you're here? Maybe when you die sixty-some-odd years from now, you won't be stuck here. I hope you aren't. But until that time, why not have breakfast and dinner together? Or the occasional dance? Or the hopefully more than occasional kiss?" Destiny allowed herself a chuckle at that.

"Destiny, you've changed this place from Hell to Heaven for me. I only hope I can do the same for you."

It was not something she could express as poetically as he did, but it was true. Something between them had clicked long ago. Destiny couldn't place exactly when that had happened. Maybe it was all the way back to when he had accidentally picked up her bra--she giggled inwardly at the memory--or perhaps it had been when they went for the buggy ride. Whatever it was, she couldn't argue that it had changed her life for the better.

Unable to find the words, she smiled at him. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Counteract all of my pessimistic thoughts. It's so hard to be cynical with you around. If you don't knock it off, I might start having faith in mankind."

"Oh," sneered Dustin playfully, "we wouldn't want that." He smiled. "What do you say? This is your decision. I don't want to pressure you. Trust me, I'm not the type of man who--"

He was cut off with a kiss.


	35. Lily's Lullaby

Chapter Thirty-Four

There was an odd stillness in the old mansion following the episode with the news crew. The ghosts knew they had escaped something big. Who knew what would have happened if Koji had not acted so heroically? Likely, they would have been put on display like a carnival side-show. Destiny would never have gotten a moment of peace.

As with any tidbit of news, Dustin's outburst was being whispered and hissed of through the halls and walls. Embellishment, to be expected of course, especially from a particular little sister, gave him the strength to vanquish not one, but ten rude, would be suitors. (It did not take Bea, however, to overplay the exploits of Ezra, Phineas, and Gus. They gladly did that themselves.) Unable to just relax, Destiny decided to go out and run errands. Dustin had stayed with her as long as he could, and they enjoyed each other's company as she tried to summarize the big events of the past forty years.

Her day of errands came to a quick close, however, after the unsettling amount of stares she got at the laundromat. She was glad she was suspended from work for a while. It seemed as if everyone in Liberty Square had seen the newscast. Celebrity status being something she wanted no part of, she quickly gathered her clean clothes and went home.

By the time she got to the mansion, everyone had relaxed considerably. This was most evident in Emily, who skipped through the foyer chanting, "He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me..." pulling petals off an already wilted daisy.

"She's in a good mood," remarked Destiny, folding a towel.

"Uh huh," Dustin replied distractedly, clumsily handling a pair of jeans. Laundry, he quickly realized, was not only something incredibly embarrassing to a chap such as himself, but maddeningly difficult.

Laughing, Destiny gently took the pants from him and finished the chore herself. With a sheepish smile, Dustin mumbled, "Sorry about that," and scratched the back of his neck.

Grinning, Destiny chuckled, "I'd rather have you be a good cook. You know," she said thoughtfully, "I think more has happened to me in a week than in the past fifteen years."

"Is that good or bad?" asked Dustin.

Carefully, Destiny placed a small rag on top of the towel pile. "I'd have to say..." Drawing the word out, she rolled her eyes upwards. The more impatient Dustin looked, the longer she took. "...aaayyyyy... Good. Very good."

"Oh, very good. Well, that's nice," he commented dryly.

"Hey!" Flinging a pair of socks through his face, she picked up the laundry basket and they went to the linen closet to put away towels. As she opened the door, she was greeted by the smirking face of George Gracey. "George," she asked with an arched eyebrow, "what are you doing in there?"

Darting his eyes around, he put a finger to his lips. "Shh! Clairece and I are hiding from L. L. She'll never look in here." He beamed proudly.

"But it's a really obvious spot."

"Exactly!" he exclaimed, grinning triumphantly. "If you were looking for someone like me, would you check the obvious places? Or would you search all the really inventive ones?"

She had to laugh. "It's odd how the gears in your mind turn sometimes."

Tapping the side of his head, he said, "You forget, I was an attorney. I made a, heh, living thinking backwards in logical nonsense." Azure eyes widening as he peeked over Destiny's shoulder, he suddenly shut the door.

Destiny turned to see the youngest ghost skipping down the hall. Occasionally, she paused in her bounding to peek into a room. She stopped by the couple and Dustin winked and pointed to the closet. Hardly able to contain her laughter, the dead girl flung open the door. "Ha! Found you!"

"No fair!" griped Gracey as he stepped out. "You little cheater!" He tickled her to the point of giggly squeals. After exhausting her, he picked her up and put her on his shoulders. "What say we go find Clairece, hmm?"

Watching George's and L. L.'s interaction, Destiny couldn't help but remember her own father and all the moments they shared. Feeling a cold touch on her shoulder, she looked into Dustin's loving and concerned eyes. "Are you all right?"

"Oh, yeah, fine." She smiled and started putting away towels. "Just thinking." As she reached up towards the top shelf, the sheet Dustin had haphazardly tossed up there yesterday tumbled out. Lunging down, Dustin tried to snatch it before she did. Seeing his worry, she smirked and quickly grabbed it. With a flick of the wrist, she shook out the bedclothes to survey it. "Okay," she laughed, "who cut eyeholes in the sheet?"

George looked up at Little Leota and she looked down at him. Grinning like Cheshire cats, they declared, "Dustin did it!"

"Why do I get blamed for everything around here?" the Englishman asked.

"Because," L. L. climbed down from her father's shoulders and he placed her on the floor, "you're the perfect scapegoat, Mr. Dust." She gestured for Dustin to stoop down so she could whisper in his ear. "See? I told you to just admit your feelings."

"And I can't thank you enough." He ruffled her hair before she dashed off to search for Clairece.

"Hey," Destiny peered at a corner of the sheet. "It's monogrammed." She waved it tauntingly at George. "'G. G.'"

His jaw dropped in shock. "My blankie!" he cried, snatching it and holding it close.

Rolling her eyes, Destiny put away the rest of the towels and slid the basket under the bottom shelf. Well, laundry was done at least. Now what? "You guys are unemployed and don't want to be seen by a lot of people. What do you do to break the monotony?"

"Count down the seconds until you go mad," George mumbled. He stared into the distance and clutched his sheet in his fists.

"And if you're already crazy?" Destiny joked.

The dead aristocrat daintily folded his "blankie". Carefully, he placed it on the uppermost shelf. Then he smoothed out any wrinkles. Normally, Destiny would have laughed at the flamboyancy, but there was something very thoughtful about his actions. "That sheet used to go to my bed when I was a young boy. It's the only thing I have left of my childhood. My mother embroidered the initials." He spoke softly. "It was the last gift she gave me before she left." He sighed.

"I'm sorry," Dustin apologized. How was he to know? He had just grabbed a random sheet out of the closet. It did not occur to him to check it for a name.

As if he had not even heard Dustin, George continued. "Lunatic. She took an axe to my father's head. Supposedly he'd been with another woman. I was only ten years old." He stared up at the shelf.

Destiny didn't know what to say. The fact George sounded so calm about it made a reply even more awkward. Now she knew how everyone else felt when she was blunt about her childhood. "I was ten when my father died, too. Funny how history repeats itself, huh?" She put a hand on his shoulder and he turned and smiled. "One day, you're going to have to write all this down. A story that bizarre would make millions. And I'll probably need that money when I get fired."

Sheepishly, George said, "Sorry I squandered the family fortune. You would have been set."

"Say," Dustin cast nervous glances, "your mother isn't here, is she?" An image of Destiny waking to find a homicidal maniac standing over her bed, wielding a glistening hatchet, flashed across his mind's eye.

Shaking his head, George said, "No. I've never seen her here." He smiled his smug, yet thoughtful and mischievous smirk. "Would--would you like to see her? Her portrait, I mean. I don't think I properly showed you the gallery." His azure eyes sparkled anxiously a Destiny.

Smiling back, the mortal couldn't refuse. George was in his "tell-all" mood. After keeping his painful secrets in for decades, he was finally getting them off his chest and it was doing him a world of good. The smarminess had been replaced by joviality; he was enjoying the fatherhood he never experienced when he was alive; and he had a new, dare she say, healthier glow. It seemed that she was the only one he told these things too. The thought that she was helping him so much made her happy. Destiny wondered if she had gone through any such transformation after being around Dustin. Thinking back on the past few days, she didn't have to wonder for long.

"Sure. I was curious about what was on those paintings. Never got a good look at them while you were showing off your corpse." She smirked at his sheepish expression. "Plus, I'd like to take a good look at the ceiling. Since I've got time on my hands, maybe I can do some repair work."

George chuckled. "Great. I have a spice rack that needs to be fixed, too, and--and the fan in the parlor wobbles oddly, and then there's the upstairs--Hey!" He had to float very quickly to keep up with her.

* * *

Lit and sans corpse, the gallery was a peaceful place. However, once the entryway was closed, it still radiated that feeling of foreboding. The air was thick and dense, suffocating. Fully lit by the light of the candles held in the hands of the gargoyle sconces, the portraits were much easier to see. George, with help from Dustin, swept away years of cobwebs to reveal the detailed faces underneath.

"Is that her?" Destiny asked, pointing to a painting of a silver-haired woman clasping a rose and smiling sweetly.

"Yes," George answered darkly, his hand resting on the metal frame. "Don't let that smile fool you. I've never forgiven her for what she did. I admit, my father was out of line and I do sympathize with her for having her trust betrayed, but that's no excuse for taking a life. I wish they would have gotten a divorce. They wouldn't have. That whole social standing thing, you know. People of their generation believed that you should be miserable rather than end a marriage. Doubly so if you were of the upper-class."

Turning around, George noticed that Destiny's attention was now on a portrait of another woman. "And that," he said in a quiet, reserved voice, "was Lily."

Lily stood with a salmon colored parasol daintily held in her gloved hands. Her light brown hair was pulled up in a neat bun on top of her head, and thick ringlets dangled in the back. She wore a maroon top, which contrasted a bit with her light pink, puffy, short sleeves. Her skirt was white with a paisley flower pattern on it. Around her neck was a thin gold chain from which dangled a heart shaped locket with a tiny diamond in the center of it. A solemn frown curled her pale lips downward.

"She looks a lot like how I imagine Grandma did when she was young," Destiny observed. "She was really pretty George. George?" The ghost didn't reply.

Sadly, he floated up to the picture. "I haven't looked at it in so long," he murmured. "With the exception of the hanging skeleton stunt, I really don't come in here. It's just so painful." He shut his eyes before they could fill with tears.

Now standing beside Destiny, Dustin whispered, "They were so in love. There was no doubt in my mind the feelings they had for one another."

"Did you know her well?" asked Destiny.

Nodding, he told her, "Lily was the first friend I made in the states." He tried to suppress chuckles. "She was the first person I gave a ride to. I still didn't know my way around and I was so nervous. I said I could drive, so I was just thrown in a cab and given the job."

Dustin bashfully grinned down at his feet. "I just got so flustered. I think she noticed how nervous I was. She hadn't said anything up to that point, and then I head from the back, 'I thought London cabbies were supposed to have the best road memory'. And I replied, 'Yeah, but I'm from right outside of London.'" He smiled fondly at the memory. "She laughed and patted my shoulder and gave me step-by-step instructions. I don't know why she didn't earlier. Must have liked watching me panic. We met again when Asher was invited to a party here and brought me and Bea along. As a joke, she gave me a compass. I kept it on my dashboard for the rest of my life."

Studying the portrait again, Destiny said, "I wish I could have met her."

"You two really would have hit it off--" He was cut off as George let out a startled cry. When he looked up, he saw what was wrong.

The portraits were stretching. But they weren't just growing longer. As they lengthened, more and more of the paintings were being shown. A smirking man in a green derby had actually been sitting on the shoulders of a man…who in turn was sitting on the shoulders of another man…who was waist deep in quicksand. The next portrait, the stern, bearded visage of one of George's uncles, who wore a black suit and a sash, and clutched some rolled up document, was revealed to be standing on a lit keg of dynamite in his briefs.

"Must have gone out with a bang," Destiny murmured. "Why isn't he wearing pants?"

"Don't ask," Master Gracey blurted. His eyes were still transfixed on the paintings.

The mad mother was now sitting on a long gravestone. It read 'Rest in Peace Dear Beloved George'. At the base of the headstone was a bust of George (Senior), with a small ax embedded in it.

Lily's was probably the most gruesome of all. She was balanced on a thin, unraveling rope. Beneath her petite feet was a crocodile waiting with open jaws.

"Oh Lily," George whispered. "I'm so sorry."

_"Geor…"_

Blinking confusedly, he looked at the painting. "Did you hear that?" he asked.

_"…ge…"_

"Ge! I heard a ge!"

_"George!"_

Destiny's eyes grew wide. "I heard it that time!"

"So did I," said Dustin. "It sounded like it was coming from the painting!"

All three of them stared at Lily's portrait, waiting. Then they heard the voice again. It was so soft they had to concentrate to understand it. It was a muffled, echoic noise, like something yelled through a megaphone that had a thin rag covering the end. _"Please…Please God!"_

George screamed, "LILY!" He grabbed the frame as if to shake it. "I can hear you! Speak! Please!"

Louder this time, it said, "George! I've been waiting for so long!" It was coming from the canvas, but the picture itself didn't move. She sobbed. "It's hard to get through and it doesn't last long."

"Where are you?" George patted down the painting, searching for some kind of hidden door. "Just float through! You can do it!" he commanded frantically.

"I've tried! Oh, lordy, have I tried! I'm stuck in here, George. It's a prison. I can hardly see and hear the outside. I was cursed to remain in this foggy limbo. I can only get through for a short time, but it takes so much energy. Destiny will be cursed too, if Leota isn't stopped!"

"Stopped? Stopped from what? How do you know Destiny?"

Softer, Lily explained, "I try to listen whenever I think anyone comes in here. I mean, really I have nothing better to do, do I?" The chuckle did not quite come out. "Mostly, though, I hear Leota. She taunts me, tells me that she's got a plan to get out. She just needs someone, and I'm sorry to say I think that someone is our great-granddaughter."

Speaking up, the mortal asked, "What does she need me for?"

"I don't know, honey. I wish I did. But," her tone lightened, "Leota's getting angry. Seems she was going to get into the heads of everyone in the city with that stunt earlier. If it wasn't for that Koji fella stepping up and putting a halt to it, it might have worked."

Laughing, George lightly stroked her painted cheek. "It's so wonderful to hear your voice again, Lily. I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you too, darlin'. I'm--It's getting tough to get through. I can't speak much longer…"

"No! Please stay!" he sobbed. "Please!" He beat the frame with his fists, crying out. "I'm sorry, Lily! I'm so sorry for everything!" Ectoplasmic tears rained down his cheeks. "I need you."

"Shh, shh," she soothed. George could almost feel her stroke the hair off of his forehead like she used to when he was worried. As Lily's voice grew fainter and fainter, they could hear her sing. "The heart may fear the darkness, but please don't be afraid…" Then she was gone, sucked back into the purgatory.

George slowly sank, falling to his knees on the carpet. Destiny and Dustin tentatively approached him, not knowing what to do. They stood back and waited for him to say something. But he was lost in his own thoughts. It had been another one of those nights when he should have been paying more attention. But then again, how was he to know what was about to transpire?

* * *

October 1927...

It was almost midnight, but no one made a move to leave or go to bed, probably because they were so sleepy. Bea, who felt the others lacked common sense, had retired to one of the Gracey's guest bedrooms and was now sleeping soundly. Dustin was drifting off in his chair, letting a glass of wine and the warmth of the fire dull his senses. Phineas kept drifting off, too, but he seemed to be exhausted with sickness. Over the past couple of days, he had become pale and had even lost weight. Amelia came back into the foyer from checking on Bea. Leaning over the love seat, she wrapped her plump arms around Phineas's neck and hugged him. Smiling up at her, he patted her hand and she took a seat on the arm of his chair. The only noise came from a tall, thin man who was a lot less skeletal looking than he would later be in his ghostly form. Ezra tweaked with the dial on the radio.

"Ain't never anything good on at this time," he griped. "No one plays new music this late."

"Probably because they've got enough sense to go to sleep," Lily joked. She sat on a sofa, leaning against George, the top of her head resting on his cheek. He had his arms wrapped around her waist. Occasionally, she'd pull his hand down on her belly and they'd both giggle as the baby kicked.

"Well, I know someone who isn't tired." George smiled. Lily smirked up at him. "You're not going to let me sleep either, are you?"

She shook her head. "Nope."

When Dustin gave him a questionable look, George explained, "If he's active, she sleeps facing my back so I get kicked all night." The others laughed, even George.

"What do you mean, 'he'?" Lily asked, arching an eyebrow playfully. She turned her torso to face him and poked his chest. "I think she's a girl. And who are you to argue ?"

"Fine, fine!" He raised his hands in surrender. "Just wait 'till he's born. We'll see who's right." Lovingly he stroked her belly. "Won't we Alexander?"

"Alexia," Lily corrected.

"Bah!" Ezra gave up on the radio and took a seat at the far end of the couch. "Nothing good on."

Phineas looked up wearily. "Did you try the oldies station?"

"I hate old music."

"I like old music!"

"New!"

"Old!"

Lily rubbed the bridge of her nose in annoyance. The brothers always quarreled. Remembering her days as a young girl in the church choir, she got an idea. Softly, she began to sing, making up a lullaby as she went along.

_Rest your weary head, my dear,_

_Close your weary eyes._

_Though the day is long, my dear,_

_Soon you'll realize..._

Phineas and Ezra stopped their bickering and listened. George put his comforting arms around her again and snuggled down into the cushions. Dustin let his head fall back and he shut his eyes. Amelia was oddly alert.

Lily continued, raising her voice.

_Sleep now is calling to you,_

_To wrap you in sweet bliss._

_And soon it will claim me, too,_

_So take my night's last kiss._

_The heart may fear the darkness,_

_But please don't be afraid._

_Your soul shines bright through night's mists,_

_And guides us to the day._

_So rest your weary head, my love,_

_And close your weary eyes._

_The silver moon hangs high above,_

_In starless, darkened skies..._

Exhausted, she tucked her head under George's chin. That melodious voice with that Georgia twang he loved so much, had nearly lulled him to sleep. He saw Amelia get up before his eyes shut. As slumber took him, he heard his aunt say, "Dustin, psst! Wake up! We need to talk. Come with me to the kitchen, now. You know Lily's due any day now…"

* * *

George lifted his head from his hands and stared blearily at the striped wallpaper. Now he knew she wasn't talking to him about the possibility of an emergency drive to the hospital; she was planning was getting rid of his child. Rage flared in him. How dare he! How dare Dustin plot against him like that! Why, he should wring his neck--

"George?"

A hand touched his shoulder and he looked up into the face of the traitor. Dustin had betrayed his trust. If he had told him Amelia and Lily's plan, he could have put a stop to it!

"Are you all right?"

"All right?" Of course he wasn't all right! If they weren't already dead… But they were dead. And Dustin thought he had been helping Lily. George knew that every intention Dustin had was good. Shaking his head, George stood up. For a moment there, he had thought like his mother. He shuddered. At least he was able to control that rage and reason through it, unlike--

"Weakling!"

"What?" Destiny and the two men turned to the source of the yell. It had come from the other side of the gallery. "Not her, too."

"You pathetic weakling!" George's mother spat. "Just like your father: break down and cry like a baby when things don't go your way. You little brat. I should have killed you too!" Cackling maniacally, she sent chills down the trio's spines.

Dustin tightened his grip on George's shoulder. Sneering at the painting of the mad matriarch, he hissed, "Come on, let's leave."

The crone clicked her tongue. "Tsk, listening to some foreigner now? Hmm… And who's this hussy?"

Destiny bristled and clenched her fists.

"Oh, right. The granddaughter. I can't believe you bred with that piece of trash!"

George's nostrils flared. With a shaking hand, he pointed at the picture. "Shut up, mother!"

"I should have known you would be stupid enough to fall for that tramp! Men, none of you think with your brains. I should have strangled you when you were born, you worthless little--"

"GO TO HELL!" The yell hadn't come from George. It had sprang from Destiny's lips. She put a protective arm across George's shoulders. "Don't you dare speak to him like that! You have no right, you withered hag!"

George's mother seemed at a loss for words. Unfortunately, she thought of something to say. "You talk boldly now, you repugnant harlot, but just you wait. You'll get yours."

"Let's leave," Destiny murmured. She and Dustin walked George out. Even with the door closed, they could hear, "She'll get you! She'll get you all!" followed by crazed laughter. Thankfully, it quickly died down, just like Lily's voice had.

"Something about Lily's portrait was really familiar," Destiny said, breaking a silence that had lasted for nearly five minutes. The three of them were sitting solemnly on the foyer couch, mulling over what had just happened.

Emily skipped through the room. "He has my heart. He doesn't have my heart. He has…"

"Where does she keep getting flowers?" Dustin asked as the bride disappeared through a wall. "And who is she even talking about?"

Lifting her chin from her palm, Destiny's eyes brightened. "That's it! The heart locket! My grandmother gave it to me when I was a kid!"

"Come to think of it," said George, "I don't think I saw it again after…that night. She must have put it on our daughter, and she, in turn, gave it to you." Hopefully he asked, "You don't still have it, do you? It's just that I gave it to Lily on our first anniversary, so it's very special."

With a smile, Destiny chirped, "Yeah! I just wear it on special occasions. In fact, when I got here, I unpacked it and put it in the dresser drawer. I keep it in a cushioned velvet black box to keep it safe. Would you like to see it, George?"

He nodded enthusiastically. "Please." He watched as Destiny went to her room. Patiently he waited, tapping his fingers on his knees. Then he twiddled his thumbs for a bit.

Destiny came back to find the two men engaged in a thumb war. When she cleared her throat, they broke it up immediately with embarrassed chuckles. Staring at her feet, she sighed. "I'm really sorry, George, but I can't find it. I know I brought it with me, and I remember putting it in the drawer. I emptied it out, and all the other drawers too." When she looked up at his face, she felt even more wretched. "The next time I talk to Koji, I'll ask him if any of those freaks have sticky fingers. I can't think of anywhere else it would be." Exasperated, she huffed and put a hand on her hip. "I'm really sorry."

Trying to mask his disappointment, George mumbled, "It's all right. I was just hoping to see it again. I hope we can get it back."

Destiny sat next to George. She hugged him and he embraced her back. "I love you, Grandpa."

Pulling back, he blinked in surprise and smiled. "I love you to, granddaughter." Staring past her head, he glared at the closet door. "Would you help me do something vaguely symbolic?"

* * *

In the backyard, George burned his sheet. Destiny watched as the wind carried away the ashes. The breeze whipped her hair across her face but left the two dead men unaffected. Silently they watched the black specks as they scattered and faded into the distance. No one said anything as they all pondered the same thing: What did Leota have planned?

* * *

A/N: For returning readers, you'll notice I changed the song. I was just too uncomfortable with using "I'll Fly Away." It was against the TOS to do that, and I apologize. This new song is one I wrote and I've titled it, "Lily's Lullaby."


	36. A Proposal

Chapter Thirty-Five

Tomorrow would be Halloween, the busiest night of the year for Koji. Well, it would be the busiest if he actually had a job anymore. Kicking a piece of trash along the sidewalk, the former paranormal investigator sighed forlornly. What was he to do now? His career was all he had. His parents were on the other end of the East coast. Maybe he could move back. Koji pulled his coat tighter around him and shivered. He missed the almost perpetual warm Florida weather.

Pushing his hat down, he thought, _Why am I not driving? Why am I not in a car with adjustable heat?_ Oh, right. He had decided to go for a walk in historic downtown Liberty Square to clear his head. And the heater didn't work anyway. He'd always meant to fix that.

Stopping at a crosswalk, he waited for the signal to light up and then he dashed across, holding down his fedora. If he wanted to, he could just turn back around and go home. It was only about a mile away. Hot cocoa and the _Ghost Hunters_ marathon he had TiVoed last night were waiting for him. ( It wasn't that he liked the bickering wannabes, he just loved laughing as ghosts stood in front of the cameras waving and holding up signs that read, "Hi ma! I'm on T. V." )

Perhaps it was the festive Halloween decorations that kept him going onward. Cardboard witches, black cats, and skeletons hung in windows; grinning jack-o-lanterns were perched on porches; and some shops and houses even had orange lights strung up. Halloween had always been Koji's favorite holiday. He loved the spookiness, the silliness, and, most of all, the candy. Even with his height, he still couldn't pass for a kid. The neighbors knew him. So he'd go shopping the day after Halloween and get bags of all the discounted post-holiday goodies.

As he passed a window with a salt water taffy puller in it, he remembered he had not bought any candy to pass out for trick-or-treaters; or rather, candy that he'd eat and usually finish by the time any kids got to his porch. Sometimes in his weaker moments when he started getting a stomachache, he'd actually pass out treats to children. He stepped into the store and bought three bags of taffy. As he left, he made a mental note to put at least one aside for the trick-or-treaters.

Chewing some of his loot, his thoughts wandered back to Destiny and the ghosts. Over and over, he had relived the moment in his mind where he had "confessed" to setting up a sham haunted mansion. He still couldn't believe he had done that! He, Koji, voted "Most Obnoxious" in his senior year of high school, had done something that was not only unselfish, but had risked ruining his reputation to help someone else's. Looking back on his life, he realized what a pain in the neck he'd been. Sure he had some nice moments here and there, but for the most part, he had acted only for himself, caring little for anyone else. All those buildings he had snuck into and all the spirits he had harassed and all the people he had annoyed… No wonder he didn't have any friends.

Suddenly he brightened. He did have friends! Not the obsessive jerks at the Institute, but genuinely good people, like Destiny. Her main concern was helping someone in need, even if they were dead. There was also Dustin, always chivalrous and thoughtful. Even the hitchhikers had made an effect on Koji. They had proved their loyalty time and time again, and had taught him when to lighten up and laugh and when to take things seriously. It was the littlest ghost, though, who had most profoundly affected him. L. L.'s youth and innocence had shown him just how bitter and jealous he had been. He had wasted his precious childhood trying to get something he just couldn't have. So what if he didn't get to be the world's greatest psychic? That time should have been spent playing and learning about more important things. She made him realize that he should have a good time while he could. The dead child was a grim reminder that life could come to an end any given moment.

In a much better mood than he had previously been in, Koji stepped into a formal clothing store. There was a sale on hats.

* * *

Destiny clicked away at the keys, the rhythmic tap taps creating a false sense of calm around her. On the laptop screen in front of her was a crude diagram of the portrait gallery. Her main focus was the ceiling. Less than a third of it had been finished. Then there was the broken attic window that needed to be fixed too. Hadn't George mentioned a spice rack as we--

"Destiny?"

She didn't look up.

"Destiny, I think we need to talk." Arms crossed, Dustin stood behind her. She had not said a word after they had come back inside from the cemetery. George too had been silent, but he had vanished without any clue to where he was going.

Eyes still glued to the screen, she said, "Dustin, I'm busy."

"You're afraid." When she still did not turn and look at him, he vanished and reappeared behind the computer. Then he stuck his head through the back of the monitor and out the other side. He gripped the bottom of the screen, his fingers curling out and under. "I really think we should talk about what Lily said."

Pretending not to see him, she stared through his face at the gallery mock-up. "A few of those beams are going to have to be replaced," she mumbled. "Especially the one George was hanging from. His weight and the rope cutting into it probably weakened it."

"You're ignoring the issue," he said in a sing-song tone.

She finally looked him in the eye. "Your glasses are askew. And I'm not ignoring anything. Besides, George said Leota was, how'd he put it, restricted, and I've had enough warnings to know not to purposefully go to her. Now, please, let me work."

Adjusting his spectacles, he sighed. "I think maybe you should take this seriously."

Frowning, she snapped, "Seriously? You're talking to me about taking a threat against my life seriously! I can't stop thinking about it! I find out my house is haunted. I'm the descendant of the last owner! And now some witch I never met has some evil plot involving me? I am taking this very seriously! But what can we do about it? Should I confront the psychotic ghost and just hope it's a big misunderstanding and she had no intention whatsoever of ripping out my heart? Or--or whatever it is she wants to do? There's nothing I can do right now. There's no clues, no hints. I can't suddenly Velma up a solution." Wearily, she begged, "Just not now, Dustin."

"But--"

Destiny glared back at the screen. There were some key numbers missing. "If you'd like to help, go into the gallery and measure the length of the beams and the perimeter of the ceiling."

Backing out of the monitor, Dustin exhaled sharply. If she did not want to discuss it, fine. She could be stubborn.

She watched him walk away. She felt terrible for snapping at him and brushing him off like that, but she was nervous. When Destiny Chalmers was nervous, the only thing she found comfort in was her work. Blueprints and equations would not break your heart or try to kill you. It was with a sense of guilt that she realized that true friends would not either.

As she mentally mulled over any apologies she could say, her cell phone rang. It always seemed like someone called while she had to do some heavy thinking. It was probably keeping her from fully going insane. If she actually sat down and thought for a long time about the fact that her home was filled with dead people, she would probably run through the house screaming.

"Hello?"

"_Moshimoshi_!"

"Koji, I'm impressed. I never thought you actually knew Japanese." Destiny smiled.

"Mom made sure I had some drilled into my head just in case her family paid us a visit." Sitting on a park bench, he lay one arm across a hat box on his lap and braced the elbow of the other arm on top of the box so he could hold up his cell phone easier. "I was wondering if you were doing anything for Halloween tomorrow."

She blinked a few times. "Oh. I forgot completely forgot about Halloween. I have to get candy. Boy, I really don't want to go back out in public yet."

"Well," he said brightly, "I've got some bags of candy, some decorations, plenty of cheesy horror flicks. Why don't we have our own little party at your place? The chances of kids stopping by is rare, so we get all that taffy to ourselves." When she did not answer, he said pitifully, "I'm feelin' kind of low right now and I could do with some cheering up. Oh, and I need to drop something off anyway."

Destiny leaned back in her chair, fingers tapping the tabletop and an eyebrow arched. "Like what?"

He glanced back down at the box. "A gift. So, we on for tomorrow?"

Biting her lip, Destiny thought about it for a second. "Yeah. There's something else I should tell you about too when you get here."

"Is everything all right?"

"As of right now, yes. But I'm leery."

"Okay. It's getting late. I'm going to start walking home. I'll get the decorations and everything together. Tomorrow afternoon good?"

"Fine by me."

"Cool. _Sayonara_."

"Toodles," she chuckled. Looking back at her diagram, she wondered how Dustin was doing.

* * *

Dustin jammed the metal end of the measuring roll into a beam. The wood was soft and in poor shape thanks to time and termites. Pulling the roll with him, he floated to the other side of the beam. "Twenty. That one will need to be replaced." He jotted down the number with a pen onto a little notepad he had brought up there with him. Down below on the floor was Destiny's tool bag.

The rope tied around the middle of the beam annoyed him. It seemed creepy to leave a bit of noose dangling around. Good thing the body was gone at least. Staring back at the knot he decided to cut it off. Leaving the measuring tape, pen, and tablet, he dove down to grab a knife out of the bag. At the moment when he thought he'd reached it, it moved down.

"What?" Looking around him, he realized the room had once again stretched a bit. He laughed and smiled. "All right, all right, I get it. Good one, whoever you are." As he reached down again, the floor moved down, too. He heard no voices this time. The portraits were silent. This was being done to get on his nerves. "Ha ha! Yes! Very funny the first time! I'm trying to get some work done." Then the process repeated itself. "Oh, cut it out!" When he put his hand down, the floor moved up. Too high. He suddenly had his hand in the middle of the bag. Grumbling thanks, he took out a small, toothed knife and floated back up to the beam.

He set to work sawing the noose when he heard a whisper.

"_Dustin…"_

"Lily?" But he knew it wasn't her again, or even George's mother. No, this was a voice that sent shivers up his spine and made him think about his death. He chose to ignore it, cutting fiercely to make himself focus.

_"Oh poor Dustin…"_

It was in his head that time, darting around his thoughts. "Get out!" He was saying it as much to the voice as he was to himself. He jabbed the knife into the wood and jumped down, slowing his momentum in time to gracefully touch down to the floor. With a shock, he realized he had landed right in front of the panel that led to Leota's secret door.

_"Why are you so afraid, Dustin? You're dead. You have nothing to fear."_

Somehow, he felt numb. He tried to speak but his tongue seemed swollen. "Destiny…"

_"Come, let me show you my plan, Dustin. She'll be fine, I assure you. Just see for yourself…"_

A cold feeling washed over him. He had not commanded his feet to move forward, but they did so themselves. They took him up the staircase and into her room. What was he doing? Was he really trying to find out Leota's plan? Was he doing this to save Destiny? Stepping into Madame Leota's chamber, a chill ran down his spine.

The raven perched atop the back of her chair ruffled its feathers. Its beady black eyes glared at Dustin. For a moment, he wondered if the bird was a ghost. It was hard to tell in the darkness.

"Dustin, I'm so glad you could join me."

He looked down at the glowing crystal ball. Leota smiled up at him, her ruby red lips curled into a seductive smirk. "You know, I've never been able to get a really good look at you before. You're quite a handsome young man, really." Her dark locks wafted in front of her face, blocking everything but her piercing green eyes. "I've been watching you, Mr. Dust." The mists in the ball swirled and faded until the scene of Dustin and Destiny dancing appeared. "I know," she spoke over the action, "that you love her." The kiss played out. "And she loves you." Leota chuckled. "What an adorable couple you make." Her face once again appeared. "Which brings me to my proposition."

"Proposition?" This wasn't right. The list of names Phineas had given flashed through his mind.

"Yes, dear. It's so cramped in here and I'm so lonely. All I want is to be able to stretch my legs and have conversations. You have no idea how lucky you are to be able to roam about the mansion. I can't even have that!" She pouted. "I can't even hold my little girl in my arms and kiss her good night." She sniffed as a tear trickled down her cheek. "It wouldn't take much to set me free. Just crack open this crystal. Your brother almost did, but he's so selfish and mean. He just left me crying."

The dumbstruck feeling left him. "With all I've heard, why should I?" he demanded.

"I thought you would ask that. I've served my time, haven't I? I've thought about how I've acted and I've changed my ways. It's unfair to keep someone imprisoned forever, don't you think?

"But let's not talk about me for a minute. Let's talk about _you_. I remember when you first walked in here, so timid and nervous, being Mister Mature. Do you remember what happened Dustin? I showed you your deepest desire." Once again she displayed the image. A living Dustin picked up Destiny by her waist and they spun and laughed. Leota's voice and features interrupted the sweet vision, catching Dustin by surprise as he almost got swept up in the fantasy. "I know you want to live. If I'm set free, I'll bring you back to life!"

The offer gave him a jolt. "What!"

She laughed at the shock in his voice. "I will bring you to life when I'm set free. But you must act quickly. After Halloween I won't have the power to do it, but right now I'm strong enough. You'll finally truly have her, Dustin. Isn't that what you want?"

Oh God, it was what he wanted more than anything! The fine scent of alluring perfume drifted in the air. Like a soft hand, it tickled him under his chin, caressed his cheek. He distinctly remembered it as the kind Destiny wore. He let it overpower him. His eyes closed and his mind began to drift…

_"An evil witch!" "Do you honestly think we would want anything to do with that conniving, murderous, heartless banshee…" "Boy, Leota deserves no ones sympathy! You've got no idea what that woman's done!" "…she's single handedly responsible for bringing about the deaths of Gus, Ezra, myself… The ghosts that hang out in the ballroom, the tea party guests…"_

_"She'll get you! She'll get you all!"_

Dustin's eyes snapped open. Coughing, he waved away the perfume. How stupid he had been! He ran.

"Set me free!" With her scream, an unnatural breeze blew around the room, ruffling the tapestries on the walls and making the hanging occult charms jingle like wind chimes. The raven screeched and fought to regain its footing.

Running out through the formal door and into the hallway, Dustin didn't stop until his shoulders were grabbed by George. "Dustin, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost." He smiled smugly at his own lame joke. But his features soon became concerned. "What's wrong? Did you just come out of Leota's room? What were you doing there?"

"I--I don't know! I just… I don't know." His eyes were wide and fearful.

Bracing a hand on the other man's back, George led him to the library. It worried him to see the usually calm Brit so upset. He knew they had all been under great stress, but this went beyond the dealings of the afternoon. "I've spent the past couple of hours here, looking for any clues in the books. Nothing yet, I'm afraid. No spells that seem suspicious. No rituals that caught my eye. Now, what did Leota say to you?"

* * *

Emily and Bea dashed down the main hall into the foyer just as Destiny was shutting down her computer. "Did I hear right?" cried Emily, eyes alight, and her heart pounding. "Is Koji coming by tomorrow?" She grinned expectantly.

"Uh." Destiny looked at Bea, who grimaced and shrugged. "Yeah. Why?"

"Oh." Emily attempted to look calm as she twirled a lock of her hair. "No reason."

Bea sighed exasperatedly. "She's got a crush on the bloke."

Immediately defensive, Emily snapped, "No I don't!"

"You just told me, sweetie. It's what we've been bloody discussing for the past twenty minutes, if you recall. You dragged me out of the graveyard to tell me, right when I was about to go for a ride with Manny." She crossed her arms and smiled. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go find my little cycling Irishman." But before she could turn around, Emily grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back.

"She," Emily pointed at Bea, "thinks it's a bad idea for me to have feelings for Koji." She huffed.

This caught Destiny by surprise, especially since Bea had tried so hard to get her and Dustin's relationship going. The mortal decided to fluster the former would-be bride a bit before attacking that issue, though. "But you don't have feelings for Koji. You just said so." She smirked at Bea, who grinned back. It was like teasing a little sister.

"All right! All right!" Emily cried, flinging her arms into the air. "I like Koji! I can't help it!" She collapsed onto a sofa, pouting.

Destiny and Bea took seats on either side of her. "I thought you said he was icky and short," Destiny pointed out sarcastically.

Fingering a bit of lace on her dress, Emily mumbled, "Well, I changed my mind. He's still short. Just not icky. I mean…" She sat up. "He's so adorable! Those chubby cheeks," she squeezed her own, "those big dark eyes," she batted her eyelashes, "and the way he does his hair," she finished, pointing to her own head.

"Oh, you mean by not combing it for two weeks," chuckled Bea.

Emily scowled. "You keep making fun of him! You just don't know him!"

"Nor do you," Bea pointed out helpfully. "Look, poppet, I think you're just looking for a rebound. I think this'll get you hurt."

"I know what I said about him earlier, but that was before I saw how heroic he was! How he just sprang in front of the camera like that!" She sighed wistfully. "I've been plucking petals, you know, and each stem I reach says 'Yes!'"

"Sounds like a completely accurate way to choose a hubby," Bea winked at Destiny.

"Emily," began Destiny, choosing her words carefully, "I don't think Koji has the same feelings for you. That's why Bea"--Bea nodded-- " and I both think you should reconsider about this." She smiled at her. "You of all people should know not to rush into a relationship."

Turning to the live woman, Emily sent her an icy glare. A snarl twisted her pale lips. "How dare you try to tell me how to live my life!" She sprang up.

"Afterlife," Bea corrected.

"And then you have to go and remind me of the most traumatic thing that's ever happened to me!" she sobbed. "I never should have listened to you! I'm going back up to my room!" Head down and brushing away tears, she ran to the attic stairs.

Sighing, Destiny put her head in her hands. "Great," she groaned, looking up. "Another situation I handled completely wrong. This day can't get worse, can it?"

Bea pondered that for a moment. Finally, she said brightly, "It could be raining fire and brimstone. Don't worry. Em will get over it. She's a teenager with a crush. Once she's got the sobs out of her system, she'll come back down. We can get this all straightened out tomorrow when Koji comes. She'll see that he doesn't like her and I can introduce her to some nice dead chap." Bea grinned.

"By the way, how're you and my brother doing?"

Destiny shook her head. "I snapped at him earlier. I'm scared, Bea. Apparently Leota's got it in for me and everyone else. Maybe I should just leave--"

"No, don't, please! Look how happy everyone is! Except Mr. Baker and Asher. They're always grouchy. And Leota… But look at how cheerful George is! Dustin is in love! My mopey brother has fallen head over heels for you, and I can tell by that grin you feel the same for him! The gossip chain has been running rampant." Destiny had to laugh at that. "And I finally have a sane woman to talk to. Whatever the threat is, I can assure you that you have just about every single ghost of Gracey Manor behind you. We love you and we won't let anything happen to you."

"Wow." Destiny was speechless. "Thanks Bea. I don't know what to say."

Bea's eyes sparkled. "I meant every word of it. Now," she said as they stood up, "I need to find my Manny and you should talk to Dustin, from what you've said. Cheerio, dear! Oh, I'll have a word with Asher too. Selfish git's been hogging the television remote and won't let anyone else use it. I'll straighten him out later." She winked and vanished.

"Bye Bea," said Destiny. Then she started her search for Dustin. He wasn't in the gallery anymore, so she set off down the main hall. She soon found him in the library. As she pushed the door open, he quickly hushed.

"Oh, hello Destiny," he greeted with a smile as she stepped in. He sat in a rocking chair as George stared gloomily out the window. "Sorry I left. I got sidetracked." He got up and walked to her side. Gently he took her arm. "George is in a…mood. Let's chat elsewhere." Together they walked out and Destiny closed the door behind them.

When they were out of earshot, Destiny whispered, "How has he been taking this?"

"You know how he is. Covers it up nicely. He told me he's been searching through the books for any clue as to what Leota's planning."

"No, I meant, about Lily. I can't imagine how much that tore him up inside."

Dustin shrugged. "It's hard to tell with him sometimes. I know he must be devastated. To lose someone you love so much and then to find out they're imprisoned. Must be pure agony." He cleared his throat. "There's something else. I went into Leota's room. That's what has him mad. As he should be, of course. I don't know what came over me. Destiny, it was like something was in my mind, making me move." He shuddered, remembering the cold feeling that had rushed through him.

Watching him shiver, she asked cautiously, "What happened?"

Furrowing his brow thoughtfully, he tried to remember. The memories seemed to blur together. "She said something about watching us." Realization dawned on his face. "Destiny, she's been watching you, studying you!" He felt sick as Destiny paled in fear. "She knows about us." Shamefully, he hung his head. "She made me an offer."

Voice quivering, she asked, "What was it, Dustin?" Placing a hand on his cheek, she looked into his eyes. "Don't be afraid to tell me."

Placing his hand on hers, he said, "Leota told me that if I set her free, she'd give me my life back."

Heart pounding, Destiny had to ask, "What did you do?"

"I ran out. I just left." Disappointment briefly flickered over Destiny's features. "I never knew her when I was alive, but she's not a good person. She killed me, among many others. She's--she's trapped for a reason." In a hollow voice, his eyes focused somewhere far off, he continued, "It would be selfish and foolish of me to let her go just so I can be alive again."

Destiny felt a sharp pang of shame. "I'm sorry." She hugged him and he embraced her tightly back. The worry was still there, but she felt safe with him. Odd. She felt safe with a dead guy. Maybe it was because nothing could happen to him. And if anything happened to her, what would that mean? An eternity with the man she loved? "We're both a little selfish, I guess," she admitted with a smile. "And we're also both a bit foolish. Me moreso than you, I think." She chuckled.

He laughed. "No, I'm sure we come out evenly." His mood had lifted and his easygoing smile was back. "How could I trust her, anyway? Her main intent is to hurt you, I know it. And I won't let that happen." He kissed her.

Her spirits were up, too. Even though he was a ghost, she felt so lucky to have him in her life. "Dustin, I'm sorry for snapping." She sighed. "I was just scared and lashed out."

He smiled as she nuzzled his chin with the top of her head. "It's all right, my love. We're all tense right now. Nothing's going to come between us."

"'Scuse me, lovebirds! Comin' through!"

Destiny and Dustin looked up to see Ezra and Phineas running in their direction. The couple broke apart just before the pranksters would have plowed into them. Ezra skidded to a halt and hid behind Destiny. Phineas cowered behind Dustin, but tried to huddle under his coat.

Dustin craned his neck around and glared at the lump by the back of his legs. "Excuse me? You do realize most of you is showing, right?"

"What's wrong with you two?" asked Destiny. "Owe someone money?"

"Not this time," Ezra answered, peering over Destiny's shoulder. He quickly ducked back down.

Just then the source of the terror came shouting down the hallway, swinging a metal ball. "You forgot Gus's anniversary!" The short man was livid. "How could you forget?" He chased Ezra around Destiny. "Quit hiding behind the lady, coward!"

"Sorry, Gussie!" Ezra cried. He ducked another swing, his hat flying up cartoonishly and the metal ball whooshed in the empty space between hat and head. Grabbing his derby and pushing it back down, Ezra said, "You could have reminded us!"

"Yeah!" Phineas agreed. He scooted away from the angry man, shuffling Dustin's feet along with him to keep his disguise. Unable to keep his balance, Dustin fell backwards, landing with the back of his knees and lower half of his legs on Phineas, who had ducked down and covered his head.

The plump phantom chuckled nervously up at the seething dwarf. "It was just a mistake, Gus."

Dustin floated up and dusted himself off. "What's got him so mad?"

Pointing and sobbing, Gus declared, "They forgot my death day anniversary!"

Destiny looked at Dustin and arched an eyebrow questioningly. He just looked back at her and shrugged. Finally, she had to ask, "What?"

Getting up, Phineas explained, "Each year, we always do something special for Gus on the anniversary of his death. E and I always kinda felt responsible, so we try to make up for it. Well, it was a couple of days ago and we didn't even realize it."

Gus sniffed. "Thought they were taking extra long to make a big surprise."

Destiny patted Gus's head. "Poor little guy." He wrapped his arms around her legs and hugged her. "I know they didn't do it on purpose. If anything, Gus, it's my fault. I guess I upset things when I showed up."

Sniffling, he croaked, "It's okay. Gus understand."

"He didn't understand ten seconds ago!" Ezra shouted from behind Destiny.

"Well," Destiny stopped down, "what can I do to make it better?" Before Ezra could make any comment at all, she said, "Within reason and decency."

"Darn it!" grumbled Ezra.

Gus thought on this. "Like to hear about our last days alive. It's been so long. Almost forgot."

"That's, uh, a little morbid," mumbled Destiny. She stood up. "One of you two want to take this?"

"I'll do it," chirped Phineas just as Ezra began to open his mouth. "No need for anyone to add fictional details and exaggerations."

"But that makes it interesting!" Ezra protested.

Destiny smiled thoughtfully. "You know, I'd like to hear about your lives, too. Why don't we all find a comfortable place to sit, and you can tell me and Gus all about them."


	37. The Story of Three Stooges

Chapter Thirty-Six

_September 1927..._

The old pick-up truck ambled along the dirt road, kicking up dust and causing the chickens in the back to cluck irritably. The skinny man lying on the truck bed with his hands behind his derby clad head, didn't care for the road conditions either. But gritted his jaw shut and remained quiet. It just did not seem safe to have his mouth open around live poultry anyway.

A pothole jolted the vehicle and a caged fowl fell from the top of a towering pile of hens and landed on the man's stomach. Before he could curse, he got a mouthful of feathers.

It was not long before the old Ford was brought to a stop alongside a field. The passenger door opened and a plump gentleman, about the same age as the one screaming about how much he hated birds in the back, slid out. In his right hand he clutched a bulky carpetbag that was as worn and faded as he suit and top hat. "Thanks!" he called cheerfully to the driver.

"Now, this will help, right?" asked the elderly man at the wheel. In one hand he clutched a bottle that read "Queeg's Fix-All Tonic".

"Sure it will," the other man replied as he took some dimes from the old coot's outstretched hand. "Have a good day, sir!" He tipped his top hat as his skinny companion hopped out of the back. The two watched as the truck became a speck in the distance.

"So," ask the thinner of the couple, "what will that do anyway"

"Dunno. It gives cats constipation and dogs diarrhea. Who knows what it'll do to a person"

"Phinny, you're a sick puppy"

"It's 'cause I hang around you so much, E.," Phineas retorted with a chuckle. They looked over the familiar plot of land before them. "It's our old haunt"

Ezra nudged him with a grin. "And old friends," he added, pointing.

A bright red and white tent was being erected. An elephant refused to budge as several men tried to push it towards a large cage. All around, people shouted orders or dragged and pushed heavy equipment. The circus had come to Liberty Square.

"What do you say we pay our little gal pal a visit before we sit up shop?" Phineas suggested, a large, placid smile on his round face.

Ezra took off his derby and slicked back the non-existent hair on his head. "I'm always up for a visit with the lovely Miss Lily." With that, the half-brothers set off for the tent.

It was difficult to imagine that the two could be related in any way. Ezra Dobbins was tall, and thin to the point of looking starved. His wiry frame, he thought, was perfectly suited to jumping out of bedroom windows at five in the morning when "certain people" who were not supposed to be home yet, according to other "certain people of the female persuasion," arrived home early, and threatened to do extreme damage to "certain parts" of Ezra. Grudgingly, he would also admit that he never got to use this talent very often. Phineas, on the other hand, was a man of average height. That is, if he quit slumping his shoulders. He had always been on the chubby side.

Both were not exactly brilliant men, but they were smart in their own ways. Ezra bragged that he was "street wise," which meant that no matter what city he was in, he could find a garbage bin to hide in as the cops ran past. More apt to using book smarts was Phineas. He was good with chemicals and any bizarre ingredient he could get his hands on. Like some sort of grifter mad scientist, Phinny could fix antidotes that professional chemists could not even dream of concocting. If he wanted to, he could cure the common cold. The trouble was he didn't want to. It was much more fun to make a hair growth formula that made every follicle on someone's arm grow four feet long. The most striking contrast between the two was their smiles; however, the biggest similarity they shared was the reaction their smiles got.

Ezra had big teeth and a big grin that was unnerving. It seemed too large for his sunken face. It made people want to watch his mouth rather than, say, their wallets. Quite the contrary was Phineas's smirk. He too had a huge smile, but it seemed so genuine, so laid back, so sweet that there could be no doubt in anyone's mind that he was trustworthy. It was very easy to hand money over to Phineas.

They had known each other since they were ten, when Phineas came to live with Ezra and his mother Eliza. Only a couple of years after Ezra was born, his mother and father had gotten a divorce on the grounds of Mr. Dobbins's affair with a Ms. Queeg. It was about ten years later when a little boy showed up on Eliza's doorstep, searching for his father. His mother had died, he explained to her. Although Eliza was still bitter about the whole ordeal, she could not leave someone as pathetic as pudgy Phineas out in the cold. Despite little Ezra's tantrum about having to share his room, the two soon became friends. Even quicker they became partners in crime. It started out as simple small things. Ezra would proudly show his mother his newest marks from school. While Eliza was contemplating whether she should punish him for such bad grades or politely encourage him to do better, Phineas would steal a cooling pie off of the windowsill. Mrs. Dobbins knew exactly what they had been doing and never punished them because the pie was always for them in the first place, and Ezra's loud compliments trying to drown out Phineas's clumsiness were always a good show.

It wasn't long before they unleashed their honed talents on an unsuspecting public.

Ezra and Phineas passed a small trailer with faded posters on the side. One read, "See the amazing Lily O' Malley! Goddess of the tightrope!" Under the flashy print was a painting of a beautiful young woman, hardly past her early twenties. She had big hazel eyes and rosy cheeks. Her dainty figure and cute smile might have fooled most men, but Ezra and Phineas knew she was as tough as they come. They would freely admit to having crushes on her, like all the other men did, when they first saw her act. Much more reluctantly they would admit that a pretty young thing like her wouldn't waste any time on poor codgers like them. After they had gotten over the infatuation though, they realized what a smart, funny girl she was, and they soon became good friends. Phineas and Ezra made sure to pay her a visit every time they happened to cross paths.

Next to her poster was one that simply read in big, black letters: Madame Leota Sees All! There was no picture of the woman. Instead, there was a pair of shockingly bright green eyes with clouds of billowing purple smoke around them. "I don't remember her from last time," muttered Phineas thoughtfully.

"Must be new," Ezra shrugged and led the way into the tent.

Much like the outside, the inside was bustling with activity. The lion tamer was tossing steaks to his faithful pets as they performed their tricks. Clowns tried to cram themselves into little cars. Clowns, Phineas and Ezra thought, were the only people on the food chain lower than them. A man in pink tights juggled flaming torches while a woman rode a unicycle while twirling large hoops on her wrist. The only thing missing was Lily. And that guy selling popcorn who always ran away when Phineas walked towards him.

"How're you doing, m'boys?" a thick Southern accent drawled happily. The grifters turned to see a potbellied gentleman with a cigar dangling between his teeth and a welcoming grin.

"Sammy!" they greeted him, shaking his hands.

Not one for impersonal pleasantries, Sam McGinnis grabbed them both into a bear hug. He was almost bald, save for two patches of greasy black hair on either side of his head. His boots were filthy from helping clean out the elephant cage. A thin, little black mustache sat under his nose. With his big, black top hat, white trousers, and bright red shirt, it was clear he was the ringmaster. After finally letting them go, he asked, "Setting up shop, boys?" He winked.

"Soon," answered Phineas, who wondered if the smell of pachyderm would ever leave him. "We just came by to see Lily"

The smile on Sammy's face fell. Thoughtfully, he puffed his cigar, as if contemplating what to say. After nearly a minute of suspense, he finally confessed, "She left"

"Wha'?" both men demanded, dumbfounded. Lily had been the star of the show. She couldn't be gone!

"Such a shame really. Well, for me anyway. The crowd always came to see her. But I suppose she's happier now"

"Did she die!" cried Phineas.

"Nope, she got married"

Ezra nudged Phineas in the ribs with his elbow playfully. "Just as bad, huh"

"A little more than a year ago, this blue-eyed young man stops by to see the show. Never saw someone watch her so intently." He tapped off the excess ash from his cigar. "Never saw Miss O' Malley blush before, neither." He smiled. "Their eyes met across a crowded tent. It was love at first sight. She got so flustered she fell right off the rope and onto his lap. How's that for fate pushing you in the right direction, eh?

"Every day we were in town, he came by to see her, bringing flowers and chocolates. Had a lot of money, that boy did. "On the last day, he came again, this time with a diamond ring and a question." The ringmaster sighed. "She made her choice." Chewing his cigar, he mumbled sadly, "I'm gonna miss 'er."

"Well, at least she found herself someone who can provide for her," Phineas said helpfully. "And someone who obviously loves her"

Sam looked up at him and blinked. "Yeah, yeah, there's that, Queeg." Another puff on the cigar. "She and her hubby paid me a visit last week when we were in Yale County, across town. He's a nice guy, really. Definitely an aristocrat. Not a snob, mind you, but he's got that..._ look_, you know. Nice suits, speaks like everybody's listenin' to him, that sort of thing. Nice boy, though. And Lily, well, she had a belly out to here." Chuckling, he held his hand out nearly a foot past his stomach.

Ezra and Phineas didn't know what to say. It was just too hard to imagine impish Lily, the same Lily who beat the strong man at arm wrestling, like _that_.

"There's something that troubles me, though," said Sam thoughtfully. "They left with Leota"

"We saw the poster," Ezra felt the need to explain. "What is she anyway? Some kind of fortune teller?"

The cigar smoke moved up and down with Sam's head. "A Creole from New Orleans. She came to me askin' for a job. Looked like she'd just outrun a lynch mob. Probably did. Started out bringing in a lot of money. She has a gift, or she's a really good guesser. But..." he paused.

"What?" prompted Phineas.

Sam tapped off more ash and watched disdainfully as it fell onto his boots . "Now, you boys know I ain't no bigot. So long as you can do the job, I don't care what color you are or what god you pray to. Just so's you know I ain't sayin' this out of prejudice. But that woman, there was something off about her. The way she would look at you, like she could read your mind. Gracey, that was the name of the feller Lily ran off with, offered Leota a job at his mansion, talking to ghosts or something. Rich folk are weird like that. But the thing is, despite all that money she made, I was glad to see her go. I just wish it wasn't with Lily. I don't like the way she looks at her"

He blinked. "Of course, maybe I'm just being a superstitious fool." After one last puff, he tossed the cigar stub down onto the dirt and ground into it with the toe of his boot. The mood suddenly seemed to somehow be dampened. In a way that suggested Sam was just trying to cheer the others up, he advised, "If you boys want to catch the pre-show crowd, you best find yourselves a stage fast. They go quickly, and the prices shoot up faster than fireworks on the Fourth of July"

"Yeah," muttered Ezra. "It was nice seeing you, Sam." Feeling downtrodden, although they did not exactly know why, he and Phineas shuffled out.

"Good seein' you boys, too. Good luck today"

"Thanks!" Phineas called over his shoulder with a wave. "Seems so odd, doesn't it"

With a sigh, Ezra thrust his hands into his coat pockets. "Yeah. Come on, let's go find us some suckers."

* * *

While Phineas was in charge of procuring a stage, Ezra was working the crowd. 

"Step right up! It's easy to play! There's a little stone under one of these shells." He took a rock and put it under half of a walnut shell. "Then it gets switched around." Five halves were lined up on a small metal fold out table in front of him. He hoped the sword swallower wouldn't miss it. Deft with years of practice, his thin fingers swiftly spun the shells around one another. It's like a ballet, thought Ezra. A ballet of round, brown, wrinkly, smelly things that have been in my pocket for two days. "Correctly guess where the stone is, and you win all the money in the pot!" "The pot" was his derby with the nickels of paying customers in it.

Unknown to his patrons however, the rock was tucked into Ezra's palm, held fast in his tightened hand.

It was an old ruse, one that had been around for centuries. Perfectly justified, he thought. If they were stupid enough to pay, he deserved that money. Had he been nearly caught a few times? Sure! But the point was "nearly".

Ezra had a feeling that this was going to be one of the "nearly" moments. Standing before him was a huge, burly man, watching a walnut shell with piercing beady eyes.

Ezra gulped.

Mr. Mass had kept his sights on where the pebble was, or rather, where it was supposed to be. And when the cover was lifted and he saw nothing…

Ezra didn't want to think about it. This looked like the type of guy who arm wrestled grizzly bears and won. A bead of sweat formed on the con man's brow as he continued to switch the shells, faster and faster.

And that big ape still followed it! Dobbins was a dead man. Only help from above--or below, he wasn't picky and below was more likely to help--could save him now. Saying a speedy prayer, he knew there wasn't any more point in stalling. Everything stood still. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. Tha-thump tha-thump.

Suddenly he could hear a whistling shriek. Ezra looked up in time to see a smoking beaker falling towards his face. From somewhere in the distance, he could hear Phineas yell, "Hit the deck!" In a second's time, he dove under the table, taking his derby with him. The beaker smashed and smoke oozed in all directions. Grinning, Ezra crawled out and to a safe distance away as people around him coughed and tried to wave the dense cloud away.

Good ol' Phinny! He must have noticed Ezra getting nervous. Sure enough, there was Phineas standing on a short stage and smiling like a fat cat who had just gotten away with eating a parakeet. Someone always set up a few stages when the circus came in. He jumped down as Ezra ran up.

"Glad you got my message."

"Message? I thought you were saving my life."

Shaking his head, Phineas explained, "I just wanted to let you know I've got everything set up." He gestured to a little table on the stage. Glancing down at the hat held in Ezra's hands, he asked, "How much did you make?"

"Couple of dollars." Emptying the money into a hidden compartment in the carpet bag, he continued, "Almost got busted."

"By who?"

"Big guy. Little piggy eyes. Watched me like a hawk." Ezra put his derby on. "All right. Let's get cracking." He disappeared into the crowd as Phineas began to empty his wares onto the table. As he shuffled through the throng, Dobbins made a show of pointing at the stage and muttering "Ooh! Look!"

Soon, Phineas had a captive audience. Standing behind his table with the jars and bottles around him, he was in his natural element. Ezra made have liked working one-on-one with his games of no-chance, but Phineas loved working a crowd. A mob seemed to share only one brain, and if he could entertain that one brain, the dough would be rolling in.

He cleared his throat.

_"Come one, come all!  
Ha ha! I'm Phinny Q,  
And I've got a Q for you!  
Do you suffer from unease?  
Feel weak in the knees?  
Think you're allergic to bees?_

_Well have I got the exlixir _

_That's sure to fix your _

_Troubles and woes!  
Just take a sip,  
And in a nip _

_You'll be right back on your toes!"_

The crowd was enthralled. People had their fancy cinema and their "talkies", but nothing could ever beat live entertainment. Especially when that live entertainment promised you a wonder cure.

_"Yessiree folks, I have the cure-all _

_For all your aches and ills.  
Trust me, and you'll see _

_It works faster than any pills!"_

Scanning his eyes over the crowd, he spotted Ezra. Phineas rubbed his hands together and Ezra winked back, subtle signals that no one would pick up on.

"Now anyone out there feeling sick?"

Among the crowd of yelling people, Ezra called out, "I am! I am!"

"Get up here on the stage boy, quick!" After Ezra scrambled up, he asked, "What's your name son?"

"Dupe'd," the skinny con replied weakly. "John Dupe'd."

With a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, Phineas asked, "Are you feeling sore, Johnny boy?"

"Oh, more than I can bear!" Ezra cried dramatically, putting a hand to his brow. Limping to the table, he moaned, "Doc, I can't hardly walk. There's a pain in my back, and when I walk it makes a loud 'crack!'." Straightening up, his spine cracked. "And I don't know what I'm gonna do!"

Beaming, the salesman picked up one of the bottles and handed it to Ezra. "Well, I'll tell you! I know your pain is rather bad, but cheer up lad! You'll be fine if these directions you follow. Here, take my tonic and give it a swallow!'

Taking the elixir, "John" put it to his lips. Adam's apple bobbing up and down, he pretended to chug it. Then he put it down and wiped his mouth with an exaggerated sigh of contentment. "I feel--" He gagged. "Phinny," he hissed into the other's ear, "I think a drop got on my tongue! That hot dog's coming up!"

"Shh! Stay in character!" Louder, for the audience to hear, Queeg, asked, "Sir, how do you feel?"

"Like my shoes are gonna be wearin' my lunch any second…er, I feel dandy!" Just to show how dandy he felt, Ezra did a cartwheel. Springing back up, he announced, "All my pain is gone! Thank you, o kind and wonderful stranger!"

The crowd was jubilant. Cheering and shouting, they held their hands up in the air, cash in their fists. Saying his thanks, Phineas exchanged the money for bottles of his tonic. As the crowd cheered, he and his half-brother did their own little dance on the stage, singing a ditty that no one seemed to catch the words to.

_"Ezra and Phineas"  
"Phineas and Ezra"  
"Wheelin' and dealin!  
Griftin' and driftin!  
You think we be sellin,  
But we be 'a' stealin'!_

_"Scammin' and shammin'  
Schemin' and plannin'  
'Till the day we die!  
We--"_

Ezra stopped mid-jig. An all too familiar looking vehicle was creeping up behind the circus tent. Recognizing that particular style of Ford immediately, he tugged on Phineas's sleeve. "Buddy, we got trouble! Flivver!"

Looking down at the stage, the pudgy one remarked, "Where's a fiver?"

"No! Flivver!" Grabbing Phineas's head, he turned it to the cop car. "Look!"

"You don't think…?"

A voice from the crowd called, "You two are under arrest!"

Looking down, they saw the man with the beady eyes. He was holding up a shiny badge. "We've been on your case for a long time now. On a personal level, taking you in is going to be the highlight of my career!"

"Why's that?" Phineas giggled nervously.

"Three months ago, I bought a hair growth tonic from you…" Reaching down, he pulled up the ankles of his pants clear up to his knees. His legs were covered in thick, curly black hair.

Snickering, Phineas joked, "Looks like a couple of poodles fell in love with him."

Not wanting to waste valuable time with one-liners, Ezra shouted, "RUN!" Phineas grabbed the bag and together they took off.

"GET BACK HERE YOU LOUSY BUMS!" The police officer gave chase. They could hear the cars not too far behind, either.

"I take offense to that," muttered Ezra. "Vagrant, maybe. Sleaze sure. But 'bum'? I work hard for my money!" Getting an idea, he turned to his half-brother. "Hey, you remember how you called me a lazy good for nothing beggar this morning?"

"Not really, but--" He was suddenly tripped.

"Don't have to outrun the cops, just gotta outrun you!" Ezra called over his shoulder, carpetbag in hand. "No hard feelings, buddy!"

Spitting out dirt, Phineas pushed himself back up and ran after Dobbins. "None at all!" He grabbed the waist of Ezra's trousers and yanked them down. Watching him try to scramble with his pants around his ankles, Phineas laughed and took the bag. "Nice underwear! Those hearts are you!" Still laughing and looking behind him, he didn't see the cop car.

BAM!

Shaking his head, he looked up to see a gun pointed at him. "Uh-heh. Hi officer." Ezra had the barrel of a revolver jammed against his back.

"Phineas Queeg and Ezra Dobbins, you're under arrest."

"At least let me pull my pants up! Ow! Careful where you're jammin' that thing!"

* * *

"This is cruel and unusual!" Ezra cried, raking his tin cup along the bars of his and Phineas's jail cell. 

"Aw, pipe down!" a guard yelled. "Or you won't get any dinner!"

"Oh yes, flavorless gruel and stale bread! Be still my beating heart!"

A chunk of stale bread was flung at him and clocked him right in the face.

Phineas stared at the floor thoughtfully from his seat on the lower cot of the bunk bed. "Whining only makes it worse."

"Yeah, well," Ezra rubbed the bruise on his forehead, "the governor will hear about this!"

"Yeah, and he'll laugh, too. We sold him some cough syrup last year."

"I wonder if he ever got his voice back…"

They listened as the door to the jail creaked open. There was scuffling and the sounds of a struggle. Whoever they just brought in had to be huge! From the skirmish, they could hear a guard yell, "We got one in from the nut farm! Seems he was too much for them to handle!"

The guard who had thrown the bread sighed. "I hate it when they do that!"

"Well," the one out of sight said, "he's calmed down a little. Got a shackle on 'im! Hold still!" He grunted with effort at something. "There! We got someplace to put 'im?"

Smirking evilly at Ezra and Phineas, the other guard said, "We sure do! Just toss him in the cell with those two tramps!"

Paling in fear, the two con men looked at each other in shock. "No! Please don't!" they screamed.

"Phinny!" Ezra clung to him, shaking. "Is it true what they say about crazy men in prison!" Both praying for mercy, they trembled and sobbed, cowering in the far corner. They shut their eyes tightly as the shadows of the guard and their new cellmate appeared on the wall. The cell door squeaked open. A shouting, cussing thing was flung in. Then the door was quickly shut again.

After a few seconds of nothing happening, the brothers slowly opened their eyes. Blinking confusedly, they stared in incomprehension at the man who stood before them.

He was short. That was an understatement. He wore a grubby long shirt and a pair of smudged pants and shoes. A messy mop of hair sat on his head. Trailing from his face to his toes was a thick, scruffy beard. The ball and chain around his ankle seemed too harsh for the little guy.

Laughing, Ezra asked, "Who's the midget?"

Taking up the chain in his hands, the man raised up the metal ball and clobbered Ezra with it.

"Aw!" Phineas gushed as Ezra collapsed unconscious on the floor. "He's so cute! Like a big, furry hamster! What's your name?"

Stepping over the comatose thin man who was mumbling incoherently, he stuck out a small hand. "Gus Gracey!"

Shaking the offered hand, Phineas introduced himself. "I'm Phineas Queeg and that's Ezra Dobbins." He pointed to the latter.

"…mommy the waffles are cold…"

"He'll wake up soon. In from the mental ward, are you?"

Gus nodded.

"Welcome to our little corner of purgatory! Since E's sleeping on the floor you can take the top bunk. Dinner's at six."

"…don't look at me, Sammy. I don't know how the elephant got that bullwhip…"

* * *

"Face it, you're not that skinny!" Phineas chided, dipping his bread into his gruel. 

Grunting, Ezra tried to reach a little farther. He had managed to wedge himself in-between two of the cell bars and was now trying to reach the keys. They were dangling tauntingly from a nail hammered into the wall that their room was adjacent to. His fingers brushed against the iron! He just about had it!

"Uh-uh!" Chuckling, their new friend Joe the guard picked up the keys and tossed it on his desk. "Nice try." He walked away, leaving Ezra to curse under his breath.

"Smug sonofa…" He grunted and wriggled. "Uh, guys, I'm stuck."

"Maybe," Phineas said, "we should just wait a couple of days for our trial. Then we can plot how to get out of prison. Or better yet, let's plead insanity!" He looked at Gus, who shook his head. "Yeah, we'll probably just end up back here. Hmm…"

"Can someone please pull me in? This is really painful!"

"Fine!" Grabbing Ezra's legs, Phineas and Gus pulled.

"No! Wait! Push me out!" But he was tugged back in. "I said push me out! I was already half way there!"

"Only a third," sighed Phineas. "We'd probably break a few of your ribs in the process. Your moaning and whining is bad enough without you actually in any kind of pain." He suddenly got that look on his face that suggested he either had an idea or indigestion. "I wonder…" Rapping his fingers against the bars, he listened to the answering pings. "Gussie, give this a little love tap, would you?"

Gus scampered up. He spit on his hands and picked up his chain. After a few good swings, he slammed the metal ball against a bar. It shifted, just slightly. The trio waited for the ensuing footsteps of Joe. When they didn't hear anything, Gus hit the bar again and again. The third time was the charm. It fell and Phineas grabbed it before it could clatter on the floor.

"Now Ezra!" he hissed.

Shimmying through, Ezra tip-toed to the desk and grabbed the keys. Hands shaking, he jammed one into the lock. It didn't work. He tried another.

In the near distance, a toilet flushed.

"Holy--!" Furiously, he put in another, and another. A door opened and closed. The last key! It had to work! Footsteps came closer. Phineas and Gus frantically wrestled with the bar and shoved it back in placed. The lock clicked. Ezra opened the door.

"What is the bozo trio up to?"

Ezra ran into the cell and slammed the door shut. He thrust the keys into his pocket just as Joe walked by. The three convicts tried their best to look casual.

"Well boys," said Joe, "my shift's over. Bob's going to baby-sit you now."

"Is Bob as kind and caring as you?" Phineas asked.

"Oh no. Bob's much, much meaner. Goodnight!" Laughing, he left them. He hadn't even checked for the keys!

"Let's hope Bob's just as stupid," snickered Ezra, patting his pocket.

They waited until midnight to enact their plan. Just like some cliché cartoon, Bob fell asleep in his chair, feet propped up on the desk, snoring loud enough to keep Ezra, Gus, and Phineas wide awake. Carefully, Ezra unlocked the door and they quietly slunk out. Gus even held the ball so it wouldn't drag on the floor. Unfortunately, none of the keys seemed to work on his shackles.

"Wait," whispered Phineas. "My bag!"

"Leave it!"

"No, it has our money!"

The carpetbag was tucked under the guard's desk. Crawling on his hands and knees, Queeg approached the desk. Bob shifted in his sleep, making the pudgy felon halt in fear. When nothing further than a scratch on the nose happened, Phinny reached past the guard's feet, slowly pulled out his bag, got up, and then dashed away with Ezra and Gus at his heels.

Snorting, Bob woke up to see them running around a corner and out of sight. Baffled he shot a look at the cell. The door was wide open with the key still in the lock. Trying to get up quickly, he fell.

"BREAKOUT!"

All of the lights turned on in the city jail and the cops on duty sprang into action. Not ones to surrender, Phineas threw random jars, Gus knocked out a few police officers, and Ezra hurled insults. In what seemed like a blur of action and near heart attacks, the trio was outside.

They couldn't believe it! They had gotten out! They had just broken out of jail!

Panting, Phineas grinned. "We make a good team!"

"GET THEM!"

"But congrats can be said later! Book!"

Through the night and into the early hours of the morning, they ran. They found a patch of woods just as the sun was rising. Hiding there, they managed to catch a short nap. When he spied a cute, cuddly forest creature, Gus killed it and they cooked it for breakfast. Plenty of the concoctions Phineas had made caught flame easily enough to burn down the entire forest. Thankfully, that wouldn't be a problem. It soon started to rain. Grumbling, the three soon set off again in the after noon.

By sunset, they had found a road and followed it out of the woods. Thumbs out, they tried hitchhiking with no luck. The downpour made any on-coming traffic difficult to see. They were starting to worry when thunder crashed above them. Lightning was the last thing they needed.

A streak of brilliant light lit up the night sky, illuminating their surroundings for a brief second.

"Ezra," Phineas peered ahead of them, "did you see that?"

"What?"

"A house!" He waited a few seconds and the sky was lit again. "There! It's a mansion!" They ran up to the wrought iron gate. On either side of it were brick columns with bronze placards on them. Peering closely, Phineas could make out the imprinted letters as lightning flashed again. "Gracey Manor? Do you see this? Do you know what it means!"

Ezra had seen it. He had also seen the graveyard. "Creepy rich weirdoes?"

"No! Sam said Lily had married some guy named Gracey! That's his mansion! It has to be! Lily will let us stay, and if Gus is who he said he was--"

"Twinkles, Happy Fairy of Everlasting Rainbows?"

"No, before he ate those berries. He said he was--"

Gus jumped up and down excitedly. Thanks to the shackle, he couldn't get very high. "Gus Gracey!"

"Exactly! So even if Lily's hubby doesn't want us there, he would have to take us in!"

"Or he could kick us to the curb and just take in Gus," Ezra pointed out flatly.

"Nah. That would make him look bad. Rich people are all about appearance and pretending to care about the poor. Trust me, nothing can go wrong!"

A pair of headlights suddenly rushed into view. With a scream, Phineas and Ezra flung themselves into a ditch.

Gus didn't act in time.

"NO!" the brothers cried out. They jumped up as the car slowed to a stop. It was a maroon BMW, long and sleek. The windshield wipers whipped back and forth, like the tail of an agitated cat. A dent and a red stain now adorned the front left headlight.

Phineas approached Gus's still little bloody body. The dwarf had been facing the car and had caught the headlight right in the teeth. Knowing it was pointless, Phineas held a hand over Gus's mouth to feel for a breath. Then he felt his wrist for pulse. "He's dead!"

"Oh God," Ezra mumbled. "Poor little guy. Without him we…" He turned an angry glare to the car. The driver couldn't possibly have seen Gus, really. But he felt like he needed to blame someone, especially because he wanted to stop feeling guilty. If he had not wanted to break out so badly, this wouldn't have happened.

Ezra and Phineas heard the whirring of the window rolling down. Stepping up to it, they could make out the face of the driver. It was a dark woman, with a bandana adorning her head to keep her hair down, and large gold hoop earrings. Her eyes were oddly familiar. They were an unnatural green. Not only should genetics have dictated that they be brown, but this green should only show up on poisonous frogs found in rain forests.

Staring at them disdainfully, the woman asked in a New Orleans accent, "Do you have any idea how much this car is worth?"

Ezra's jaw dropped in shock. "The car? You're worried about the car! Lady, you just killed a man!" he screamed. "My friend is lying dead on the road now!"

"Did I?" she asked calmly. "Well, he shouldn't have been in the way." With that, she began rolling up the window.

"Wait!" shouted Phineas hesitantly. "Do you know who that man was?"

"Do you know who I am?"

Ignoring her question, he continued. "He was Gus Gracey, close relative and friend to George Gracey! We were stopping by for a visit." It wasn't a total lie, but the ring of truth to it was dull. "I don't know if you know this, but George Gracey happens to be a very wealthy, very influential man around here!" He wasn't exactly sure what scam he was trying to pull. It just seemed like a good idea.

The driver was visibly taken aback by this. "Gracey you say?" She frowned. "Put him in the backseat and get in. I'm on my way to the mansion."

Surprised and still stunned by the events, the cons carefully hoisted Gus up. Solemnly, they gently placed him in.

"Be careful you don't get too much gore on the cushions."

Ezra shot another glare at her as they climbed in. He had known her for three minutes and he already hated her. She started up the car again and rolled through the gate and up the long driveway.

"By the way," asked Phineas, "who are you? Have we met before?"

Those piercing eyes flickered up to the rearview mirror for a second. "Leota."

"That's it?"

"Madame Leota. I am Master Gracey's live-in medium."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Ezra mumbled, "Rich weirdoes."

Trying to be friendly, the pudgy man said, "Uh, I'm Phineas Queeg, and this is my business associate and half-brother, Ezra Dobbins."

"What's in the bag?"

Clutching the carpetbag tightly, Queeg simply answered, "Necessities."

She didn't question further, or even speak for that matter, as she parked. When she got out, the others took it as a cue to, too. Following Leota up the front steps, Phineas held his carpetbag and Ezra carried Gus. Before she could unlock the front door, it opened.

Before them stood a young man not yet through his mid twenties. He was slender, with a thin face and neatly combed dark brown hair. Like Leota, his eyes stood out above his other features. They were a bright cerulean.

Shyly, he peeked around Leota's shoulder at Ezra and Phineas. "I take it the store had a sale on men. Buy one get one free?" Looking down, his gaze caught the form of Gus. "What happened!" he cried out in horror.

Leota brushed past him, water dripping off her coat and onto the foyer carpet. "They were out of sea salt and chalk. I'll have to check back tomorrow."

"No, what happened to him? Oh you poor fellows, come in, come in!" the aristocrat ushered them in and then offered to take their coats and hats after Gus had been cocooned in a blanket and set on the couch.

"I'm afraid it's all my fault," Leota sobbed. "These poor gentlemen were walking in the road and I accidentally hit him!" Face cupped in her hands, she bawled.

Ezra and Phineas shot looks to each other as the man tried to comfort her. "Psycho," the skinny one mouthed.

Excusing herself, Leota left. She wiped away tears that never filled her eyes as she went.

"Pardon my rudeness," the blue-eyed man stepped up to them. "I'm George Gracey. You are?"

A squeal interrupted them. "Ezzie? Phinny?" Before they could react, someone had run up between them and wrapped her arms around their shoulders.

"Lily!" they called out happily, each pulling her into a hug. After what they had been through, she was a welcome sight. Other than the obvious pregnancy, she hadn't changed much. Her hazel eyes still twinkled in that same mischievous way.

Looking at her belly, Ezra joked, "We leave you alone for a little bit and this is what happens? Shame!"

Chuckling, she retorted, "Not much to do around here without you boys for entertainment."

George cleared his throat. "Care to introduce me?" He quirked an eyebrow.

"George," Lily beamed, "these are two very good friends of mine: Ezra Dobbins and Phineas Queeg."

"Howdy-do?" asked Phineas, shaking George's hand.

"Phineas is a…" She faltered. "Chemist, of sorts. He and Ezra used to stop by the circus and sell their tonic."

"Grifters," George stated.

Smiling his laid back smile, Phineas chirped, "We prefer entrepreneurs." When George didn't laugh, he continued nervously. "The reason we're here is that Gus wanted to visit you. You see, he's a relative of yours." Phinny pointed to the bloodstained lumpy blanket on the couch. Behind him, Lily gasped.

With a heavy thump, the metal ball rolled out from under the blanket and hit the floor.

"What was that for?" asked George.

Looking down at it, Ezra quickly answered, "Jogging. He liked wearing weights whenever he went out walking. Keeps the legs strong."

George arched an eyebrow dubiously. "Other than me, did he have any family?"

"Not that we know of," said Phineas. "He never mentioned them to us. I think we were his only friends, too. Pathetic, isn't it?"

Master Gracey sighed. "I'll put him in one of the crypts out back tonight and tomorrow we'll give him a proper burial." He looked as if he was going to regret what he was about to say. "Do you two have any place to stay for the night?"

"No," they both quickly answered at once.

Sounding even more regretful, he shot a look at Lily and said, "You two can stay as long as you need to rest and recuperate. The storm has calmed, so if you would please, help me with the body. Then I can get you a meal and a couple of rooms."

Lily smiled at them and they grinned back. Too low for the married couple to hear, Ezra whispered to Phineas, "Moochie moochie! We have hit a gold mine, my friend!" Phineas smirked back at him. Despite their humor though, their gazes couldn't help but wander in the direction where Leota went.

* * *

The funeral was brief and took place without any problems. Leota showed up with every inch of her body covered in black. She even had a long black lace veil that hid her face. After everyone else had left, Phineas and Ezra lingered behind to say their own prayers for Gus. They mainly consisted of apologies and thanks. 

Two more weeks went by and it seemed George had become accustomed to the thought of the two vagrants hanging around. He didn't ask them if they would be leaving soon or if they could find somewhere else to stay. With his wealth, he could have paid for fancy hotel rooms for them for a month. Instead, he came to like their company as much as Lily did. They found out that when you got past the pretentious façade he put up around business partners and clients, he was actually a fun guy with an unique sense of humor.

But "unique" was a mild term. Master Gracey's eccentrics was something they had to get used to. They figured Gus must have been right about being related to him because weirdness had to run in the family. George's obsession with the supernatural was a bit off-putting at first, but they soon got used to it. Now, they didn't even flinch when they passed by the ancient Egyptian sarcophagus, complete with mummy, on the way to the bathroom. Although, they had to admit they were a bit grateful when George put it in the backyard as a Halloween decoration.

The longer they stayed, though, the more it seemed they were drifting apart. They didn't talk as often anymore. Phineas had not made any new concoctions for them to sell and no new scams had been planned. Life at the mansion was comfortable, Ezra had to admit, but it was a bit dull. At the same time, however, he still had a sense of unease that wouldn't leave.

His brother, the only person he would have confessed these feelings to, was too preoccupied to hear him out. Lately, almost all of Phineas's attention had been placed on someone else.

Amelia Audley.

According to social standing rules, she was out of bounds for him. But he didn't care and neither did she. She was about middle aged, pleasantly plump, and had a head of beautiful bright red hair. Phineas loved her vivacious and outgoing nature. And she was every bit as scheming as he was! When she had whispered to him that she was secretly part of a bootlegging ring, he nearly dropped to one knee and proposed to her right there. For hours, they would chat in their own corner of the ballroom, downing bottles of wine.

Ezra had to find his entertainment elsewhere. Usually he played games of darts, poker, or pool with George and Lily. He found out that if you steered the aristocrat away from the topic of the occult, he could tell you interesting facts about the legal system. He would lecture about things like loopholes and defense strategies as easily as one could discuss the weather. And he would do it without pocketing the cue ball. Fresh out of law school, he dreamed of one day becoming the state's most famous attorney.

It was during the third week of their stay when things began to go downhill.

The day had gone on normally. Ezra and George were playing a game of darts. (Lily was resting). Right now the discussion was on George's impending fatherhood.

"Soon Dobbins," George grinned, "I'm going to be a father! Me!" He hit the bull's-eye. "Can you imagine it?" He laughed giddily, just glowing with joy.

Ezra could imagine it actually. What he pictured was a carousel slowly twirling above the baby's crib. Instead of stars and a sun and moon, though, there would be shrunken heads, a rabbit's foot, and an ankh. He had to stop himself from snickering when he thought of the kid being baptized in sheep's blood. Hopefully, Lily would stop George from warping their child too much.

"And he'll go to only the best schools," George prattled on. "And I'll read to him every night and play games with him every day. This Gracey generation isn't going to screw up!"

Ezra wasn't sure what the young man meant by that. Rather than question it, he stepped forward for his turn. Taking careful aim, he smiled slyly. "Congratulations! Not just on the kid, but snagging Lily." He whistled. Pushing George's buttons was a pass time for him. It was all in good fun, of course, but it was so funny to watch him get flustered. "Man, you're a lucky guy. I mean, even with one in the oven, she's smoking' hot. I could watch her walk the tightrope any day--YOWCH!"

"Bull's-eye," George chuckled. "Be thankful you weren't facing me."

Ezra reached behind him and pulled the dart out of the seat of his pants. "Okay, maybe I deserved that." He stared at the tip of the dart. "You drew blood, you pompous windbag!"

George's laughter was interrupted by a shriek. Both of the men ran out to see what the commotion was. They followed the scream to the hallway, where Phineas lay on the floor, smirking. Leota's door slammed in his face.

"That woman cannot take a joke!" he laughed.

"What happened?" asked Ezra.

Phineas stood up and dusted himself off. "This morning I gave the Madame my sore throat remedy."

Ezra put his face in his hand. "Why?"

"She had a sore throat. Anyway, the side-effects started kicking in." His smile grew wider. "All this morning she was croaking like a toad, and now, her voice is completely gone! Oh, boy is she miffed! She grabbed me as I was walking by and shook me and then flung me down on the floor." Laughing again, he continued on his way to the ballroom.

* * *

A few days later, they had company over. It consisted of three English siblings: Dustin, Asher and Bea. Asher, who worked with George, had to leave early. The other two stayed well past midnight. Dustin was true to his soft spoken nature and remained quiet most of the night. Bea and Amelia had gabbed on incessantly until the young woman had decided to lay down in a guest room. 

Phineas had undergone a change. He was pale and clammy. Even at Amelia's insistence, he would not eat. Even though he had only skipped meals for a couple of days, it looked as if he had dropped considerable weight.

Ezra was worried. When he was worried he was agitated by the littlest things. Tonight, the radio was getting on his nerves.

"Ain't never anything good on at this time," he griped. "No one plays new music this late." After flopping down on the couch, he'd gotten into an argument with Phineas over what kind of music was better. Lily had calmed them all down by singing. Right after the song, she and George had nodded off. Amelia and Dustin went to the kitchen to discuss something in private.

Uncomfortable with the quietness, Ezra turned on the radio again. Instead of music he got a news broadcast. "This just in. Liberty Square police have once again resumed their search for the three escaped convicts, Gu--" Ezra quickly shut it off with a curse.

Shaking his brother's shoulder, he hissed, "Psst! Phineas! Phinny, wake up!"

"Huh?" Phineas stared at him blearily.

"We need to talk."

After they had gone into Phineas's room and the door was shut, the thin man took on a look of panic. "Phinny, we need to leave!"

"Why?" he blinked and yawned.

"The cops are after us again." Ezra had to fight to keep his voice low and steady. "We need to get your bag and get out."

Phineas's was now fully awake. "I don't want to leave."

Ezra sputtered. "What? Are you stupid? They're going to find us!"

"They're not going to search here! The police don't bother rich folk."

"What if they start asking around? Asher, Bea, and Dustin know we're here. How can we trust them not to blab? I mean, Asher looks like the type of guy who'd turn his own mother in if it meant a cash reward!" He scowled. "This isn't about the police at all, is it? It's about that woman!" He pointed an accusing finger.

Phineas glared back at Ezra. "I happen to love that woman! I'm staying!"

"Fine!" Ezra snapped. "Then give me the money and I'll leave!" He picked up the carpetbag. Phineas had always left it under his bed.

"What! That money's mine!" Phineas tried to grab the bag back, instead they ended up in a tug of war.

"After all those times I had to drink that junk and humiliate myself in front of the crowd, I deserve it!"

"If it wasn't for me, you'd be asking for handouts on the street!" Phineas pulled.

Ezra tugged back. "I would be fine without you! My pick pocketing and games are what bring in the most cash, anyway!"

"Okay then, I'll keep the money and you can make double it by yourself!"

Suddenly, they stopped. The perfect solution popped into their minds. "Let's split it," they said at once.

"Fine," grunted Phineas. "Forty-sixty!"

"That sixty better be mine!"

"Dream on!"

There was a soft sound right outside the door, a quiet shuffling. Slippers on carpet.

Letting go of the bag, Ezra muttered, "We'll finish this tomorrow." As he stepped out, he almost bumped into Madame Leota. "Sorry."

Her green gaze followed him for a while and a wicked smirk danced across her face.

* * *

The next day, Ezra heard news that left him reeling. 

Phineas was dead. He'd passed away sometime during the night. Not only that, but when the coroner came by he had recognized Ezra (he'd bought a hair growth tonic last year), and had alerted the authorities.

Ezra's bad luck didn't end there. While he was sitting in jail awaiting his trial, an autopsy revealed poison in his fat friend's system. Now he was suspected of murder!

Looking out through the bars of his cell at his attorney/friend, Ezra moaned, "I didn't do it, George!"

Shaking his head, Gracey sighed. "I know you didn't. I just have to prove it to a jury. I won't lie. It's going to be tough. Leota says she heard you two having an argument the night he died. She's going to testify for the plaintiff."

Ezra glowered. "She hated him!"

The young man shrugged. "Yes, but she feels compelled the let what she heard be known."

"She hates me too. Probably wants to have me hanged." He noticed that George looked tired and nervous. He had a feeling it wasn't due to the case. "What's wrong?"

Looking down, George mumbled, "Don't worry about it."

"Of course I'm going to be worried! You're the only thing that stands between me and life in prison! I can't afford to have you upset!" Bars clutched tightly, he tried to shake them. "Spill!"

With a sigh, George confessed, "I think Lily's due soon. I'm worried that while I'm here, I'm going to miss my child being born. Leota was going to stay with her as long as she can, but with the trial tomorrow, she has to leave tonight."

Shoulders sinking, Ezra stared down at his feet. "I'm sorry." He sat down heavily on his cot. "I know you'd want to be there with her more than anything." Secretly, he was glad Leota would be leaving. He didn't want that witch around Lily and the baby. If he was going to go to prison at Leota's word, at least it would mean Lily would be out of danger for the time being. "I'm so sorry."

George put on a fake smile. "Don't think on it for another moment. You just get some rest for tomorrow. You'll need your wits. I know you have plenty of those. You'll be fine."

Ezra watched his friend leave. That night, nightmares kept him awake.

* * *

Things had spiraled from bad to worse. Asher was the prosecuting attorney. He may have butchered the English language around family and friends, but when he wanted to, he could be eloquent. Looking at the jury, Ezra wondered if his accent made him sound smarter. Asher was smug, conniving, and confident. It was like seeing a different man when he was sober. The only similarity between that Asher and the Asher at the get-together was that cruel look in his dark eyes. 

Past customers of Phineas's wonder cure had been called and came forward to talk about their horrible experiences. The cops had testified against Ezra in regards to the breakout. When Leota came forward, he knew he was sunk.

She spoke softly, still healing from the syrup. In detail, she recounted word for word the argument the brother had the night of Phineas's death. George's only real defense was pointing out that she had heard what had gone on behind a closed door.

Ezra was sweating bullets when the mortician took the stand. It turned out Phineas had suffered from a mild case of pneumonia, probably due to running out in the rain. It had been the poison, though, that had actually killed him.

The jury was glaring at him now. He could see the wheels turning in their minds. Of course he would kill Phineas! They were on the lam! Phineas had wanted to stay and keep the cash for himself! Ezra wanted to sneak away while he had the chance! There were his motives. He had the means. Phineas kept all sorts of bottles and ingredients in his bag. He would have gotten the poison there!

But Phineas had not kept poison in his bag. He might have had a mischievous streak and a rotten sense of humor, but he would not actually hurt anyone. It was a rule they both followed.

"Would the defendant like to speak on his behalf?" the judge's voice interrupted Ezra's thoughts.

George gave a short nod. This was Ezra's chance! He just had to tell them how much he had loved Phineas and how he was not only his brother and business associate, but his closest friend. Yes, the justice system would prevail and the truth would set him free! Well, actually, the truth would get him a heavy fine and a few years in prison. But there was always time off for good behavior.

"Yes, your honor," Ezra declared. "I would like to say a few words!" He stood up, his coat brushing against the desk.

_Plink!_

"Wha'?"

"What do you have in your pocket?" George hissed.

"I didn't put anything there! You brought me my coat this morning!"

"Mr. Dobbins," the judge commanded, "empty your pockets, please."

Reaching in, Ezra felt a glass bottle. Completely bewildered, he took it out. A guard rushed forward, took it, and then brought it up for the judge. Adjusting his spectacles, he read the label out loud. "'Exterminex Brand Pest Poison for Household Vermin. Warning: Can be lethal to humans. If consumed, contact hospital immediately.'"

The entire courtroom was in an uproar. "I wouldn't be that stupid!" Ezra screamed. George had to restrain him as he struggled. He didn't know where he would have run to. The front of the room to protest his innocence? To the jury box to punch each and every member? To strangle the judge?

"Order! Order!" the black robed man banged his gavel. "This court will go into a short recess while the jury reaches its verdict."

At first the time had dragged on. But now it blazed by, an hour passing in what felt like five seconds. George kept trying to comfort Ezra, but it was no use.

"Court is now back in session. Would the jury please read its verdict?"

The oldest man in the jury stood, paper in hand. "We find the defendant…"

Please God grant me some luck!

"…guilty of all charges, including petty theft, grifting, plotting and commiting a jail escape, and first degree murder."

The judge banged his gavel.

Ezra went numb. "I DIDN'T KILL HIM!"

"Mr. Dobbins, be quiet!"

"Who the hell would be stupid enough to bring a murder weapon to their own trial!"

"Mr. Dobbins--"

"Shut up! I loved him! He was my brother! My friend! I wouldn't have hurt him for all the money in the world!"

"Ezra!" George hissed.

He ignored him. "We saw each other through some tough times, and I am not about to--"

Banging his gavel, the judge shouted, "Mr. Dobbins, I hereby sentence you to execution by electric chair!"

"NO!" he and George screamed. When Ezra tried to run, two guards grabbed him by his arms and hauled him away.

"NO! STOP! YOU CAN'T DO THIS! I'M AN INNOCENT MAN! PLEASE!" Tears poured down his cheeks. He was going to die! He was innocent and he was going to die! "What about Sacco and Vanzetti! They were innocent! You don't want that to happen all over again, do you!" Frantically he cried for his friend. "George, help! Please, George! Asher, you know me! How could you do this? I thought we were buds!" Digging his heels into the floor, he continued to scream.

"Sorry mate," said Asher, patting him on the shoulder as he was dragged past. "It's my job. Too bad." He smirked.

"I HATE YOU, YOU LIMEY TEA SUCKING, DRUNKEN BA--" The courtroom doors slammed behind him, cutting off the rest of his insult.

George stood there, numbly staring. He had failed his friend when he'd needed him most. Turning, he saw Asher walk out with Leota.

Winking at George, he said, "Those are the breaks, mate. Part o' the business. Either way, we still get paid!" He laughed, arm in arm with the medium.

When the rest of the room was empty, George was still standing there. "I'm sorry Ezra"

* * *

"And then," Phineas smiled at Destiny, "E. ended up joining us shortly after. We found out Gus had been here from the moment he was hit. It's weird. We didn't see any of the ghosts when we were alive, and the instant we were back, it was like, 'Whoa! Where did these guys come from!' After seeing them again," he put his arms around Ezra and Gus's shoulders, "it really puts into perspective what the important things are." 

Ezra laughed. "Just had to cram in that little nugget of moral joy, didn't you?"

"Well we have to make sure the kids learn a lesson, don't we? You know things just can't be entertaining nowadays. Got to make 'em think a little." He tapped the side of his head.

"Yeah!" crowed Gus. "'Cause the more you learn--"

Phineas clapped a hand over his mouth. "No need to turn this into an after school special, Gussie."

"We were also the first friendly ghosts George ever saw," said Ezra. "After he died, he was completely clueless. We had to explain the whole 'you're-not-really-going-on-to-anywhere-when-you-pass-on' thing. Poor guy was so confused and scared."

Destiny thought on all of it for a moment. "And the hopping into people's cars thing?"

The trio looked at each other and shrugged. "For kicks," they answered simultaneously.

"What about the poison? Where'd it come from?"

"Oh," Phineas grumbled, "that was Leota. She was the one who had brought Ezra's coat when she drove up for the trial. Then she handed it to George to give to Ezra. I saw her put the bottle into the pocket myself. I would have stopped her. I tried. I was still getting used to the whole being dead thing. And George was trusting enough of her just to pass it on without a second thought."

The mortal still looked thoughtful. One part of their story was nagging at her. But it was something she would have to discuss with Dustin later.

"Sorry you guys went through all that. I never would have guessed. And here I thought you were just a bunch of goofs."

"Oh we still are," Phineas quipped. "Now we're just a bunch of goofs with a back story. And don't feel bad. They say things happen for a reason."

Destiny smiled and mused on this quietly. But she could hear Ezra mutter, "Yeah, even if that reason is to screw you over. Bleh." She tried not to laugh. He grinned at her and winked. "Gotta keep a sense of humor, kid. Otherwise life--"

"Afterlife!" cried Gus.

"Ain't worth livin'."


	38. Halloween Hijinks

Chapter Thirty Seven 

It was late, and Destiny had gone to bed. Before retiring though, she had mentioned something to Dustin that had caught him by surprise: Asher seemed awfully friendly with Leota after the trial. It wasn't a fact Dustin wanted to ponder on, but, like Destiny, it was something that had caught his attention. What had his brother known that day?

Destiny had also asked Dustin if he could stop by the ballroom on his way to the graveyard and ask the ghosts to keep their "swinging wake" quiet that night. So, Dustin went about his way through the long corridors, which were now oddly silent. Then he would go lay down in the back of his hearse, like every night, staring at the ceiling for a few hours, mulling over his thoughts until he fell asleep. A week ago, those thoughts would have been about the mistakes he'd made in life or the dumb thing he'd said that day. Lately though, he preferred to drift off to sleep with much more pleasant experiences playing in his mind. Dancing with Destiny was his favorite.

Now standing in front of the ballroom doors, Dustin reached out to grab a handle. A throaty chuckle made him stop and look up.

"You've been 'angin' around the flesh 'n' bones too much, mate," Asher grinned. "Opening doors," he scoffed. "Next thing you know, you'll be trying to go to the loo." For the sake of irony, or maybe it was stupidity-- Dustin didn't know-- Asher took out his flask from his blazer pocket and took a swig.

Watching the swallow of alcohol splash on the floor, Dustin commented dryly, "That'll stain the carpet." Looking back up at his brother, he asked, "What brings you here?"

Shaking his flask, Asher smirked. "Almost out. I was just getting a few quickie snifters before I hit the old slab for the night. What about you? Setting up another party for you and your 'schnookie'?" he asked teasingly.

"No, I was just going to ask everyone to keep it down tonight."

Asher chuckled again. "Good luck with that!" About to step through the door, he waited for Dustin to follow. When his brother didn't, he asked, "What's wrong? You're lookin' more mopey than usual."

Dustin hated to voice the questions running through his mind, especially since Asher actually sounded concerned. But he knew if he didn't get some answers soon, it would eat at him all night. And that meant no reveling in memories of spinning across the dance floor. "Asher, Phineas just told me about how he and his friends died…"

"Oh not that rot again!" Asher groaned. "Ezra just needs to get over it! You can tell 'im that he can take me bein' stuck in this God-awful house as a way to call it even!"

"It's not about the grudge," Dustin interrupted his rant. "I have to ask…"

"Yes?" Asher sounded annoyed.

"At Ezra's trial, you were with Leota. Look, I know it's really none of my business but…" He trailed off with a sigh. "You weren't, uh, courting her, were you?"

"Courting?" Asher laughed. "Sure, mate, if you want to call it that. Why?"

"I was just curious. Leota was the one who killed us, and Phineas and Ezra and--"

Frowning, Asher grumbled, "'Ey, it was nothing serious! Just a lit'le fling. Thought maybe I'd give a bit of brown sugar a taste. Heh, if you catch my meanin'." He winked.

With a shudder, Dustin mumbled, "There was a visual I didn't need." Quickly regaining his composure, he continued, "I just have one more question. Did you know he was innocent?"

"Who?"

"Ezra. Did you know Ezra was innocent?"

"Well I know now… What is that look for?"

Something in Asher's tone had made Dustin angry. He was being so flippant about someone's life! "Then! Past tense! Did you know then that he was innocent?"

Fists clenched at his sides, Asher growled, "I don't 'ave to take the third degree from my own brother on something that 'appened seventy bloody years ago!"

"You did, didn't you?" accused Dustin. "Even knowing he was framed, you continued to try and convince a jury he was a murderer! And you knew it was Leota too, right? The whole time! And you lied and twisted words and put an innocent man to death just for a fling?"

"Dust," Asher's words quivered, "I--I didn't know that later she would--"

"It doesn't matter about the later. You knew what was going on back then." Voice lowered with disillusion and defeat, Dustin moaned, " I thought that despite the boozing, the gambling, all the women you chased, I thought deep down you were a good person, Asher. I defended you God only know how many times, and this is how you repay my trust in you? I thought maybe, I don't know, maybe some of my morals had rubbed off on you after all these years. I was blind."

"Dustin," Asher whimpered, shoulders slumping, "I never meant to--"

"You were still so selfish, all for the sake of money and a night with some girl."

Feeling defensive again, Asher snapped back, "I can't believe you're 'ung up on this after all these years! People make mistakes! You need to learn to let things go! You cling to this. You--you cling to life! What's done is done, Dustin. Now drop it!" Turning on his heel, he stormed away.

Dustin groaned and tried to brace his head against the wall. Going through, he was treated with a view of wires and pipes. "Nice way to handle that, self-righteous git," he mumbled to himself. The rest of his body following his head, he walked through and into the ballroom.

Later that night, rather than visions of Destiny, Dustin tossed and turned to scenarios of how he could have handled things a lot better with Asher.

* * *

Destiny knocked on the attic door and waited for a reply. Not hearing anything, she knocked again. Feeling it was safe to assume Emily wasn't in, Destiny stepped inside. "Good morning," she said nervously to the bats as they nestled in for the day's sleep. From underneath the piles of junk, she could hear the pop-up ghouls yawning and snoring. 

"Hey!" she hissed, trying to poke one.

With a snort, he woke up, blinking his bulging eye. "Wha' da ya want?"

"Are there any Halloween decorations in here?"

"Should be." He paused. "It's Halloween?" he asked hopefully.

"Yeah."

A few-toothed grin spread across his ugly face. "WHOO-HOO!" Springing up, he flew around the attic, rousing his companions. "Halloween! It's Halloween! Everyone wake up!"

The mortal couldn't help but smile at seeing how excited the ghosts were. They popped in and out of boxes, searching for decorations. "Here are some lights!" "Ooh, cardboard cut outs!" As they found things, they put them in a pile. "Ew! A shrunken head!" "Hey! A sarcophagus!" "OW! Whuf arf youf doin', stufid!" the mummy within shouted. "Sorry, Ak-tem-hop!"

Making her way to the back of the room, Destiny searched too. The joy the spirits felt seemed to have gotten to her. With the exception of passing out candy, she hadn't celebrated Halloween since she was ten. It was too late now to go get a costume, and she did not want to deal with the stares she got the last time she left the house. Maybe there would be something here that she could wear.

The further back she got, the more feminine things became. There was a dressmaker's dummy, a big pincushion, a spinning wheel, dresses, dainty gloves, and even an old pearl purse. Long neglected baby toys were piled in a wicker stroller. Destiny felt her throat tighten as she picked up a moth eaten, dust covered doll. In the attic, there were a lot of things that were just knickknacks, stuff that had been stashed up there "for the time being, until that garage sale." The baby accessories were different, though. They were intended to stay there as a sad reminder to George and Lily of what almost was, and what they probably hoped could happen one day.

"Oh, this just isn't fair at all!" a high-pitched voice whined.

Destiny put down the toy. "Emily?" Pushing a wheeled rack of dresses aside, she found the ghost. Emily was sitting at a boudoir, frustratingly trying to put on makeup.

"A little bit of blush on my cheeks, that's all I want!" she cried. "Maybe some mascara! Is that too much to ask?" She flung a small bottle and put her head in her hands and sobbed.

"Emily, what's wrong?" Destiny asked, stepping up behind her.

Startled, the girl jumped with a yelp. "Oh, Miss Chalmers," she greeted, her visible heart pounding. "I didn't hear you come in." After wiping her nose on her arm, the blond bride sniffled, "What do you want?"

"Well, I was hoping I could find a Halloween costume up here." Quickly brushing that dilemma aside, she asked with genuine concern, "Why are you upset?" She picked up an antique bottle of mascara and examined it. "Can't find your color?"

"No!" Emily cried, snatching the makeup from the mortal. "I can't… I can't… Well! Look!" She took the black goop covered applier out of the bottle and tried to run the bristles over her eyelashes. The cosmetic just dripped onto the floor. "It doesn't work!" she sobbed. Illustrating her point further, she jabbed the bristles in and out of her eyeball. Destiny gagged. "See? Nothing!" She threw the mascara into a drawer. "I just thought maybe I could make myself look nice for…" She twirled a lock of hair and bit her bottom lip. "For Koji."

_Oh Lord_, Destiny thought. _How do I handle this one?_ "You shouldn't worry so much about it, Emily. Koji will like you for your…" She faltered. "Unique personality and charms!" She forced a grin, hoping the lie wouldn't show through her teeth. "You don't need makeup!"

Emily glowed, her heart fluttering. "You're right! What do I need this junk for?" she gestured with disgust at the cosmetics.

"Yeah! Good for you!" Destiny cheered half-heartedly. Turning to look in another box, she grimaced. Poor Emily. Maybe once she spoke to Koji she would understand that some relationships were just not meant to be. Destiny suddenly felt like a hypocrite.

"'Ello, love!" Bea poked her head up through the floor. "I heard from Dusty, who heard from Amelia, who heard from Huet, who heard from Manny, who heard from Little Leota, who heard from one of the blokes up here that you are planning to celebrate Halloween." Bracing her palms on the floorboards, she wiggled the rest of her slender form through. "So," she continued, brushing off her sleeves, "what's the plan?"

Destiny glanced up from her searching. "We've got decorations; just need to put them up. Koji's going to bring candy and movies." Going back to rummaging, she said, "All I need is a costume. You'd think in a place like this it'd be easy to find." Picking up a snow globe with two Jazz Age figures frozen forever in mid jitterbug she blew the dust off it and then shook it. "Any ideas, Bea?" she asked, watching the confetti snowflakes whirl and swirl.

"As a matter of fact," a grin spread across her freckled face as she stared at the snow globe, "I do. Hang on a mo'!" Bea dove headfirst into a closed trunk. Destiny could hear her shuffling things around and muttering to herself. Taking a closer look at the faded pink case, the mortal could see the initials L. G. inscribed in elegant gold calligraphy under the handle.

After knocking on the inside of the lid, the girl ghost announced, "Found it! Be a dear and open this up, would you? I say, it's rather stuffy in here." No sooner had Destiny opened the trunk Bea popped up, waving her prize enthusiastically. With a flick of her wrists, she unfurled it. "So," she asked, waggling her eyebrows, "what do you think? There's a matching hat, too!"

Destiny ran her fingers over the fabric. Grinning at Bea, she exclaimed, "It's perfect!"

* * *

Dustin was doing what he did best when he had a lot on his mind: Cooking. Maybe Asher had been right and he should just let certain things go. Dustin decided to not mention the incident to Destiny unless she specifically asked about Asher again. Even then, he wouldn't elaborate. He would just have to accept his brother for who he was and what he had done and leave it at that. No point in being petty. 

Looking over his treats, he gave an approving nod. He picked up the still warm tray and walked out into the hallway. "Destiny," he called out, "I made some cookies. You wouldn't mind acting as my official taste tester would you?" Sticking his head around a corner, he sang, "They look like cute little pumpkins and have orange frosting!"

"Ooh, I'd love to try!" Destiny jogged out of her room.

When Dustin caught sight of her he dropped the tray. Thankfully, none of the cookies bounced out. "Sorry!" Practically falling, he scrambled to grab it. "I just--uh… Wow," he breathed, standing up.

"You like?" she asked, feeling her cheeks blush.

"I love."

She was wearing a dark green flapper dress with a layered skirt that stopped just a little bit above her knees and was loose enough to flare out when she turned. In his mind's eye, he could picture her twirling, the skirt spinning out with her. A matching cloche hat clung snugly to her head. All she needed was a gaudy glass bead necklace and a pair of short heels and the outfit would be complete.

Destiny took a cookie. "Bea suggested it. I thought it was cute." An orange crumb-speckled lip quirked up in a smirk. " Judging by that look on your face, I'd say you think so too." Taking a cue from so many romance movies she'd seen, she coolly reached over to push up his slack jaw. Her fingers just went through.

Smiling, he shut his mouth as she tried pushing it up a second time. "Are you going out to a party later?" he asked.

"No. If I'm going to pass out candy and decorate, might as well dress up too."

"You think people will actually bring their children here?"

She took another treat. "Only one way to find out."

* * *

All Hallows Eve is a very special time for spirits. It gives them a surge of energy, a rejuvenation. The exact cause of this has been argued for centuries. Some say it is the night when the veil between the spiritual plane and the physical is thinnest. Others claim that the fabric of the universe unravels a bit and the holes allow supernatural energy to flow through. One theory is that the energy from the hyped-up-on-sugar-children radiates out and into the spectral entities. Or perhaps it's just that ghosts are psyched that little kids will dress like them. There's no greater boost than an ego boost. Whatever the cause, it affects the whole of the supernatural world. 

For those dealing in the more magical arts, Halloween gives a boost of power.

Madame Leota was very well aware of this.

* * *

Cackling with glee, ghosts flew around the outside of the mansion, stringing up lights, setting up cardboard cutouts, and hanging up any decorations that dangled. Someone had tied a little noose to one of the front yard's oak's branches. George kept nervously poking it. Excited at the prospect of new hauntees, some specters even went through the trouble of cleaning the moss and mold off of their gravestones. 

It was early that evening when Koji pulled up into the driveway. "Whoa," he breathed when he saw the mansion. It was a bizarre transformation. Using spooky decorations Destiny and the ghosts had made a scary home look not so scary. It even had a little cheesiness factor. Reaching into the backseat, he grabbed a bag of candy, an oddly shaped box, and a cane. Before getting out of the car, he grinned into his rearview mirror. There was no denying his makeup was great. Rick Baker would have been proud.

With hardly any snow on the ground and no ice coated sidewalks and steps, tonight would be great for trick-or-treating. But with temperatures due to be dropping later, the kids wouldn't be out very late. That meant the possibility of leftover candy, and Koji was all to happy too see to it that the leftovers were well taken care of. Every October thirty-first, the hospital was ready with a stomach pump with his name on it.

Standing on the front porch, he lifted the doorknocker with the handle of his crooked cane and knocked out the tune to "This is Halloween."

Destiny answered the door. She bit her lip. Then she snorted. Unable to control it any longer, she burst out into a fit of laughter.

"What?" demanded Koji.

"Are you the Asian Ezra?"

He smirked. "Very funny." He had to admit, in his attempt to make his face look skeletal he did look like the hitchhiking ghost. "Check this out. Does Ezra have this blingalishous grill?" He pulled his black lips back and pointed to a gold tooth. "He doesn't have this cool cloak, this nice hat, or this wicked looking cane, does he?"

Without missing a beat, she looked him over and said, "I give up. Are you a dead pimp?"

He had no snappy comeback. "You know, I actually don't know. Just thought it looked cool." Stepping in, he asked, "Would you mind getting the plastic bag off my arm? Thanks. That's candy." Still gripping the hatbox, he looked around the foyer and glanced into the hallway. "Where's L. L.? I've got a surprise for her."

"Oh, Koji!" The shrill cry wasn't from the tiny ten-year-old. Emily bounded through a wall and to his side. Hugging him tightly, she declared, "I've missed you so much!"

"AAHHH! AAHH! DON'T HURT ME!" he screamed, trying to spring out of her grasp.

"Silly! I would never hurt you." She did not seem offended at all by his outburst. She was just happy he was there.

Slowly lowering his arms from his face and his bent knee from over his crotch, he squeaked, "Really?"

"Of course." Batting her eyelashes, she pouted, "I'm really sorry about earlier. I didn't know you weren't like those nasty men who were with you." Looking at his legs, she asked, "Are the bruises gone?"

"No," he answered flatly.

Before he could endure any more of Emily's weird flirtation, Little Leota materialized by his side. She tugged on the end of his coat to get his attention. "Hi Koji." Rocking from heel to toe shyly, she said, "I heard you've got a surprise for me." Smiling hopefully, she stared up at him, her green and blue eyes sparkling.

Koji grinned ghoulishly back. "Yup," he shook the hatbox. "I got you a gift."

Pure joy swept across the little girl's face. "I've never gotten a surprise gift before!" The young man lowered the box for her and she carefully pulled off the lid. After a few seconds of digging through tissue paper, she found it: A brand new brown fedora hat. A small gasp escaped her lips as she slowly lifted up the hat and placed it on her head.

"What do you think?" he asked.

Flinging her arms around him, she shouted, "Thank you! It's wonderful!"

"You're welcome."

"Although," she took it off and looked at the inside of it thoughtfully, "it's not as great as yours. But no hat can be."

Very, very slowly, Koji took off his fedora. He studied it, his beloved fedora. It had taken years for it to get so worn and bent into the perfect shape and so many stains had gone into making it those splotchy shades of brown and he couldn't even remember what it took to give it that distinct scent that was all its own.

His beloved fedora.

"Here, I think you should have this one instead." He handed her his hat.

"Really?"

He nodded.

"Thank you, Koji!" After giving him back the new one and putting the old one on, she gave him another hug. "You're the best friend I've ever had."

"And you're the most manipulative little witch I ever met," he playfully replied.

"Thank you."

George Gracey's laughter erupted from the air. Appearing between Destiny and Koji, he put his arms around their shoulders. "Being that it's All Hallows Eve, I assume we're going to have some fun tonight, hmm?"

"Your idea and fun and mine are probably a bit different, Grandpa. Decorations are one thing, but I would like for people to keep thinking that what happened was a hoax. Are we clear?"

"Yes, yes, of course." He waved the words aside.

"And don't forget…" Destiny lowered her voice to a whisper. "There is still the matter of you-know-who to discuss."

Becoming somber, George nodded. "By the way, where is Mr. Dust?"

"Making cookies."

"No offense," Emily leaned in towards Destiny's ear, "but you've got weird taste in men."

"Look who's talking."

Emily looked around. "Who?"

Koji put on his new hat. It would take ages for it to mold into the right shape. "I brought a projector, some old movies, and a screen we set up in here. I just have to get them out of the car."

Destiny followed him out to help, as did L. L. Emily went too, just to follow Koji. George stayed, staring at the closed gallery door. _"What is it you want, Leota? And what will it take to stop you?"_

* * *

"Why are you reading?" 

"Because it's a good story."

"You're hiding behind the book, George."

"I am not!"

Destiny rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the screen. Koji had brought a bunch of black and white horror classics. She, Dustin, the former paranormal investigator, and Emily sat on the couch. George took the small loveseat, his face hidden behind an open, upside-down novel. Little Leota sat on the floor, her eyes wide as she hugged her hat.

From the ballroom, the faint sounds of a party could be heard. Destiny had explicitly told the ghosts to keep all spiritual shenanigans in the house. For the first time in decades, the graveyard was quiet.

Emily gave a little "Eep!" as the fanged nosferatu crept around a corner. "Did you fight anything like that, Koji?"

"Yeah," he bragged, shoving a pumpkin cookie into his mouth. "Only he was… three times scarier than him. With bigger claws."

Dustin chuckled softly. The foolishness of some young men trying to impress the opposite sex was laughable. He glanced at Destiny. Her eyes were glued to the screen. He looked at the black and white vampire. Then back at Destiny. Yawning, he stretched his arms up, and then eased his right arm down towards her shoulders and—

KNOCK-KNOCK!

"I'll get that." Destiny sprang up and grabbed the candy bowl.

Dustin dropped his arm in defeat. "Drat."

"Trick or treat, savvy?" said a bandana and bead donned little pirate, holding up his bag.

"Aye, a treat it be!" Destiny gave him some taffy. "Happy Halloween!"

"I saw you on T.V!" the swashbuckler's mother exclaimed.

Scowling, Destiny muttered, "So did half the state."

This continued on for another hour, with Destiny answering the door and having to say, "Yes, that was me on the news. Happy Halloween!"

Even Dustin got a chance to pass out candy. Destiny had to make a lavatory visit at the same time Koji went to the kitchen to make popcorn. When there was a knock at the door and no one seemed to be in a hurry to answer it, Dustin got up from the couch, went to the closet and grabbed a sheet to drape over himself, and got the candy bowl. Making sure his entire form was covered, he opened the door. A couple of young boys, ages nine and ten, held out their bags.

"Treat," said the first, Joey, dressed in tattered baggy clothes to look like a bum.

"Or we give you a trick," finished the second, Todd, a zombie. Peering up at Dustin he frowned. "You're not very scary."

Sighing, Dustin just held out the bowl and muttered, "Just take some and be on your merry way, please."

"Taffy!" exclaimed the tramp, offended. "Lookin' at this place, you'd think the rich weirdoes who bought it could afford decent candy!"

"Yeah!" the zombie agreed. "Like, where's the big candy bars?"

"At another house," the ghost answered dryly, not even sure if the boys could hear him.

"You're just gonna stand there and not say anything?" Yep, Joey confirmed it; they could not hear him.

Dustin decided it would be best just to go inside and shut the door on the brats. But just as he turned around…

"Where do you think you're goin'?" Todd stamped a foot down on the sheet. With a ZIP noise, it fell off, revealing nothing but a floating candy bowl. The boys stood there with their mouths open in shock.

"A-heh," Dustin chuckled, dragging the sheet inside. He slammed the door just as the kids started to scream. "Little buggers," he muttered.

"Smooth like jagged glass," Koji mocked.

"You could have helped."

"Yeah but watching you deal with it is just so much more funny." Smirking, he set the candy bowl on the table and lead Dustin back to the sofa. "Destiny says she's got something she needs to talk about."

Grimly, Dustin took a seat beside his favorite mortal. Emily and L. L. were still watching the movie, oblivious to the grave mood that had suddenly overcome the small group. Destiny, George, Dustin, and Koji crowded together.

"It's Leota," George began softly. He looked down unsurely at the book he held. It was the same one he had hid behind earlier. Perhaps it held the key to this whole mess. "She's concocted some sort of scheme involving Destiny…"

* * *

"This'll teach 'em." Growling, Todd reached into a handkerchief Joey had tied at the end of a stick. It didn't serve as merely a prop to make the bum look more authentic. Carefully, the young zombie pulled out a few rotten eggs. The backyard graveyard was full of prime targets. Luckily, he had a lot of eggs. And then he could T. P. that dead oak tree. 

Pulling his arm back, he crowed, "You think you're so scary? You ain't met Todd Eisner!" Before he could hurl the stink bomb, something wet cracked against the back of his head. Joey stared at him with wide eyes as he reached back and pulled broken shell and rotten yolk out of his hair. "What the--"

More eggs pelted them. Screaming, they bolted for the cemetery's exit. Suddenly, their path was blocked by a headless man on a horse shaped sheet. The headless horseman flailed a sword threateningly over their heads. Tripping over each other, they scrambled out and onto the road, shrieking and crying.

"That's what you get for messing with the original pranksters, punks!" Ezra called, hurling one last egg and knocking Joey off-balance.

"Let's T. P. their house!" Gus cheered, clapping.

Phineas pointed and laughed. "Heh, that old crow figured out where her rotten eggs went!" The hitchhikers snorted and guffawed as a mangy black bird dive-bombed the boys.

The sheet covered horse nickered and trotted up to the trio. "You were such a good boy Rolly!" the "horseman" cooed. As her head appearing, Bea grinned and sheathed the sword. She slid down and lead the expired equine back to his usual spot. When she had returned horse and armor free, the four friends made their way to the mansion.

They never noticed the man crouched in the shadows by the porch.


	39. Burning Desire

Chapter Thirty-Eight

The last of the trick-or-treaters had left, leaving the harvest moonlit night eerily quiet. It wasn't quite ten yet. Through the library window, Destiny could see the fog enshrouded cemetery. Shadows crouched in the dim corners of the book depository, quivering with fear from the candles' light. With timid curiosity the busts tried to read over the shoulders of Destiny, George, Dustin, and Koji as the quartet hovered around an open book on a small table. They had moved to the library for privacy, but they had their doubts they could hide their actions from a certain mystic. Destiny recalled her conversation with George that had happened in this room just a few days ago. She also remembered the disturbing voice she had heard in her mind afterwards. Whoever that had been, what if it was watching them now?

The little red volume open before them was an occultist's recipe book. Every page had an incantation, a ritual, instructions, or a list of supplies and illustrations. The eerie sketches sent chills down Destiny's spine. They were old, copies of woodcarvings that went as far back as the 1600s. With primitive etched lines artists had been able to properly convey a spirit possessing someone's body, a zombie rising from the grave, or an unfortunate victim reacting to the stabbing of a voodoo doll. Destiny had often heard the phrases "witchcraft, white magic, black magic, green magic." She had also been told that magic, or magik, however one wanted to spell it, had no color at all, was neither good nor bad, or did not even exist. A month ago, she believed that David Blaine would be as close as anyone would get.

She knew deep down she had been wrong. And all of this magic was meant to be bad.

Sitting in a high backed chair, George flipped back and forth between pages. "What we need," his voice was grave yet rushed, "is to find common coincidences that you've experienced and narrow it down to which spell she's using. What weird things have happened lately?"

Destiny stopped in her nervous pacing to give him an incredulous glare. "You mean besides the ghosts and weird noises and dead people jumping into my computer?" she snapped sarcastically. When George glared back at her, she muttered an apology. "Well, the necklace is gone…" George flipped through the book with Dustin and Koji looking down at the pages on either side of him.

"Okay, an important item missing… Go on."

"You can't just dog-ear pages in an occult book!" Koji exclaimed as Gracey began to fold the tip of a page.

"And why not?" the aristocratic spirit snorted. Suddenly the book leapt at his face and tried in vain to bite his ear and fold it down to his lips.

"They dog-ear you back," Koji smirked. "Tried doing that to the _Necronomicon _and it whooped my ass."

Grunting and straining, Dustin and George forced the tome back onto the table. "Point taken," Gracey breathed, exhausted. "Dustin, put our finger there, would you, to hold the place."

Obliging, the Englishman grumbled, "What next, my tongue in a mousetrap?"

"All right, an item of great meaning," George continued. "Anything that's personal? Or an every day object?"

Destiny was sure she was leaving a shallow ditch in the carpet by now. "Let me comb my memory…Comb! My brush! My hairbrush is gone!"

"Hmm," George mumbled. "And with your hair brush goes your hair. That's not good."

"What?" Dustin and Destiny cried at once.

Gracey pulled Dustin's wrist back, pulling his finger off the page, and then turned to the next page. In bold black letters the top of the yellowed parchment read Possession.

"I'm afraid," George announced, "we've come to the answer to our dilemma."

"Well, what's the answer to the answer?" Destiny asked, her voice shaking slightly. Dustin went to her side and put comforting icy hands on her slender shoulders.

"She can't possess her if she can't get to her," Koji remarked. "Leota's trapped in the ball. I admit that she seems to be able to draw people to her if you go anywhere near her room. She can't tap into your head if you're not close or looking at her, right?"

"Hmm…" George had noticed Destiny's odd silence. Her gaze had shifted to the floor. "Have you heard her, Destiny?"

"Uh, I think," she faltered. "Maybe. Only once. It was after we had that talk in here. I didn't know what it was when I heard it. But I haven't since! And I'm not going close to her!" The glint in George azure eyes made her defensive. "What are you thinking?"

"I was thinking we have to make sure you can't be persuaded by Leota."

Dustin furrowed his brow, confused. "How do you propose that?"

O.o

"This is stupid. This is really stupid."

"So you've said, Destiny," sighed George, leaning against the bedroom doorway. He inspected his fingernails. A very reluctant Destiny stood on the other side of the locked door, arms folded across her chest. It seemed the easiest way to keep her away from Madame Leota's chamber was to simply keep her locked in her room. Koji was twirling the key on his finger.

With a look of pity at the door, Dustin pleaded, "At least let me keep her company!"

Koji shook his head. "No can do. If you're in there, you'll let her out if Leota gets in her head. Or if she starts controlling you."

"And you have been swayed by her as well, Mr. Dust," reminded George.

"Almost!" corrected the bespectacled specter. The master's supercilious tone grated on his nerves. Before he could stop himself, he added, "And maybe you should quit making these comments, mister 'I nearly strangled my barely legal bride-to-be while hypnotized by a deranged psychic!' Considering that, wouldn't you be the biggest threat, then, under your assumptions? Perhaps we should put you under confinement as well."

The two dead men glared at each other.

"Ooh! Stick 'im in the attic!" came Emily's yell from the foyer.

"Watch the movie!" George shouted back at her. In one swift and petty move, he knocked Dustin's top hat off of his head. Then the smug spirit regally adjusted his jacket cuffs. "Point well taken, Mr. Dust," he admitted calmly.

Dustin dusted off his hat before putting it back on. "Are you feeling well?" he asked through the door.

"I'm kinda hungry," whined Koji. "Can I get some more of those cookies?"

"Not you!"

Destiny placed her palms against the door and she had the suspicion Dustin's were in the exact same spots on the other side. "I know George means well," she began, "but what if something happens in here and I have to get out?" She did not add how stupid she thought it was that rooms locked from the outside in this house.

"Easy." Koji grinned. "I unlock it!" The key he had been twirling flew off of his finger. With a hissed curse he dashed after it. Bounding back like a puppy with a fetched stick, he beamed proudly. "Got it. No worries!"

Dustin rolled his eyes and sighed. "We'll stay right out here." Koji and George dragged a couple of chairs in and situated them on either side of the door and sat down. "I know this seems asinine," Dustin said into the keyhole, "but we really are trying to keep you safe. It's just for tonight."

"I know." Destiny huffed, making a strand of dark hair float up. "I just feel worried and trapped. Not to mention silly."

"If Leota's going to try anything it will be on Halloween," George remarked from his chair. He smiled and softened his tone. "It's just for a few more hours. I'd suggest getting in some reading or taking a nap." With that he settled into the chair and took out the spell book and started reading.

Dustin put his hands through the door and felt Destiny intertwine her fingers with his. "We'll be right here." Slowly he pulled his hands out then stood with his back to the door and waited.

O.o

Little Leota had grown bored with the movies. The things she could see with her mind were better than what the screen wanted her to see. So she had skipped away to find Clairece.

An aura of foreboding washed over the child as she walked down the hallway. Around her, doorknockers and handles rattled and creatures moaned. But that wasn't what made her run. Something wasn't right. Under the howling and growling, there was an unfamiliar noise, like a scratching. But it wasn't the scratching of claws. Slipping in and out of the familiar musk of dust was another scent, a burning. But it wasn't candles.

Quickening her pace, her white slippers barely made contact with the floor. "Clairece!"

"What?" her babysitter called down from the second floor hallway. She could oddly be seen, even though she clutched the candelabrum. Like the other spirits, Clairece too had felt the surge of energy that came with Halloween, but it was used more often to keep up with L. L. and tidying the mansion than for celebrating. For once, she thought this would be one of the rare nights where she could take care of things she'd had on her to-do list for the past half century. Judging by the worried expression on her ward's face, those activities would have to be pushed back yet again.

"What is it?" Clairece asked, hurrying down the stairs. She set the candelabrum on a nearby table and stooped down to one knee, eye level with L. L.

"Fire!" the little girl blurted.

"Where?" The nanny sprang up. They sniffed and ran, following the smell of smoke. Curious specters stepped out of walls and peeked through doors, wondering what the fuss was.

A small crowd had rallied behind them now, asking each other what was wrong, panicking when they too smelt the smoke. Led by the nanny and child, they ran out the back door.

Fire, a choppy ring of it, encircled the mansion. Flames soared near the back porch where the blaze had been started.

Reaching next to her blindly, Clairece grabbed a spook by the shoulder and pulled him towards her.

"I swear I didn't do it!" Ezra yelled.

"Try to put it out! I've got to make sure Miss Chalmers is all right!" She dashed back in.

"You heard the lady!" crowed Ezra.

"Yeah!" Phineas chimed in behind him. "We might not be able to burn, but this mansion is our home! Get anything that can hold water!"

The ghosts sprang into action. Raiding a garden shed and a long abandoned livery stable, spirits found buckets and a feeding trough to haul some water from the nearby river in and shovels to fling dirt. Bea had the bright yet highly controversial idea to use coffins that had been unearthed or left above ground. She assured everyone she'd see to it that any "leftovers" would be put back.

Filled buckets were put in the back of the hearse and Rolly the expired equine galloped it to waiting ghosts. Once empty, the buckets were put back, and he'd run back to the river where they would be refilled.

With a watering can with a broken spout dangling from his bicycle's handlebar, Manny Festation pedaled furiously. He came to a sudden halt beside Bea. "We're losing this battle!" Fear and anger coursed through them as the flames grew.

O.o

"So, you're like a bodyguard?" asked Emily impressed. She had left the foyer after L. L. did and quickly found Koji. Now she was sitting with her arms wrapped around one bent knee and her other leg relaxed and swinging, her toes a few inches above the floor. She was floating so that she was sitting level with Koji, sans chair. "What can't you do?" she asked in awe.

He thought about it for a moment. "Juggle."

George snored softly, the book lying open on the chair since it had fallen through his lap. Dustin sighed. Every minute that passed felt like an hour. How long had they been waiting anyway?

Destiny looked at her bedside clock. Fifteen minutes had passed since she had been locked in her room. Cabin fever must have been setting in because on top of the boredom she was becoming uncomfortably warm.

She was lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling. The smothering warmth was having a lulling effect on her. Her heavy eyelids were almost closed when she heard the yelling. Lightheaded, she slowly sat up and looked out the window.

Catching sight of the flames, she screamed and flung herself towards the door. It was if her nightmare had finally come true. Fists clenched, she shrieked and pounded on the door. "LET ME OUT!"

Emily fell, hitting the carpet with a un-ghostlike thud. George was jolted out of his nap.

More alert than the others, Dustin snapped, "Koji unlock the door!" The dark haired young man was already on his feet.

"Wait," bellowed George, "what if this is some kind of trap?" Koji paused, his grip tight on the key as he prepared to turn it in the lock. But even George looked doubtful of his words as they heard the screams.

"Unlock it!" Dustin commanded frantically, not bothering to cover the fear in his voice. He jumped through the door and to his horror discovered that smoke filled the room. Destiny was crouched on the floor, coughing and weakly smacking the door. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her up to her feet.

The handle turned and the couple burst out, the smoke trailing behind them. Destiny's thin body wracked and trembled with the force of her coughs while Dustin and Koji held her up.

"Poor dear," murmured Emily, gently pushing any hair out of the mortal's face.

Sincerely and with an edge of pain in his tone, George whispered, "I'm so sorry."

"Master Gracey!" The group turned. Clairece ran towards them, shouting. "The mansion is on fire! The whole back and sides are engulfed in flame! Get to the front yard!"

The group did not hesitate. Quickly they made their way for the front door.

No one saw the calligraphy that appeared on a blank page of the book George left behind. Like fresh, wet ink the black letters shone.

_**A Gracey trapped me.  
For so long I've been confined.  
But a Gracey will free me.  
And the mansion's Destiny will suffer for all time.**_

O.o

Destiny, Dustin, Emily, and Koji huddled together on the front lawn, watching as ghosts tried valiantly to put out the fires. Tears welled in Destiny's eyes. Her home, the one place she had felt welcome in since her father's death, was now crumbling.

"Who could have done this?" Koji asked. "This wasn't Leota." Looking around, he noticed someone was missing. "Where's George?"

The master of the manor had slipped away from the group. He pulled open the gallery door and ran in. Soon the portrait chamber would be ravaged by fire. The air was already thick and hazy, the heat intense. He had to act quickly.

He flew up to Lily's portrait, grabbed the frame, and yanked it off the wall. "I'm not losing you again!" With the painting tucked against his side, he ran for the door.

"George!" It was the voice of his mother. Slowly, he turned to look at her image. "Georgie! Georgie, dear little Georgie, come back and get your poor old Mommy!"

Without a moment's hesitation, he said brightly, "Bye Mother!" and ran.

"Georgie? … Damn you George! Come and get me now! Ahhh! It burns! It burns! You're no longer my son, you selfish brat! AHHH!"

Another voice began calling him back. "George! Please, save me!" Against his will, he ran back into the gallery and opened the second secret panel. He ran up the stairs to Leota's chamber. "Please!" Leota intoned. "Save me! I can't move! My crystal ball will be broken!"

He almost grabbed her, but stopped when he felt the canvas under his fingers. Glancing down he saw the sweet, beautiful face of his darling Lily. His true love Lily, who had been taken from him not once, but twice, by this harpy who was now pleading for his help.

"You can burn, Leota!" He slammed the door when he left.

A beam fell, smashing the crystal ball.

O.o

"George!" cried Emily as he rushed out of the house. "Where have you…" She saw the painting. "Oh."

"My cell's in the house," Koji grumbled. "We can't call the fire department. My car keys are in my coat pocket, which is probably smoldering about now." He glared. "You run past my car keys and grab a painting! That better be the original 'Mona Lisa'!"

"Someone should just run in and grab the keys and the phone!" Destiny suggested, exasperated. "Someone already dead!" She shivered. It was bizarre. Her house was on fire and she was freezing.

"The smoke is so thick now, you can't see anything," George said wearily.

Dustin's attention was oddly diverted from the argument. Peering into the woods, he thought he had seen a dark shape running from the mansion. Without explanation to the others, he took off after it. A book of matches lay on the ground near the edge of the forest. No, Leota had not done this, nor was it an accident.

"Hey!" he called out, sprinting after the thing. It was solid and human, crashing through the underbrush clumsily. Concentrating as hard as he could to make himself as solid as possible, Dustin leapt and tackled the person.

With a yell, the man went down. Craning his neck around, he searched for whoever had jumped him. His shoulder was grabbed and he was turned so he was lying on his back. Now looking up, he still couldn't see his attacker.

"Wha'?"

"You!" Dustin screamed, rage making his voice hoarse. The man lying on the dirt had a face filthy with soot and ash, but the bandages on his nose could still be seen. Dustin used the bandages as a target for his fist. "Why can't you leave her alone?"

Craig Jordan struggled. It felt as if a knee was pushing into his chest. Flailing, he couldn't hit anything, but something was surely hitting him. He rolled, the thing staying with him, pushing him down, and punching him. Maybe it was just a trick of the light that he couldn't see the other. If something was solid enough to hit him, he should be able to hit it back.

He grabbed for where he thought a throat could be. "Who are you?" he growled. "That bitch's new boyfriend?"

Hate like he had never felt before filled Dustin. He grabbed Craig's shirtfront and pulled him close. "If I kill you, I will tear you apart every hour of every day for an eternity! I will make you wish you had gone to Hell! I want you to feel every ounce of pain you made Destiny feel!"

Craig's eyes grew wide in fear and his bloodied face paled. The air in front of him seemed to shimmer and flicker. A faint, blue outline of a man appeared. Details were blurred, but the phantasm's face was twisted in a snarl and his green eyes were fierce behind his glasses. The apparition was a lanky man, and Craig felt ashamed he had been overpowered by him.

Craig growled. Destiny rejected him for a geek! A _dead_ geek!

Perhaps it was the magic of the night, the energy of the ghost's rage, or a bizarre coincidence, but Dustin was visible to Craig now. The mortal pushed himself up, ducking out of the way of the ghost's hands. Both jumped to their feet.

"No, you're not real! You can't be!" Craig babbled, backing away.

"Oh, I am very real," hissed Dustin, taking a step towards Craig for each scramble back. "And so is the pain I'm going to inflict on you for hurting Destiny!"

Craig whimpered, but just as Dustin approached him, the ghost was suddenly pulled back. Not wanting to miss this opportunity, Craig bolted.

Dustin felt like he was being snapped back on a bungee cord. What was going on? It had not been an hour and he was still on the property. He landed on his back at the base of the porch steps.

"Dustin!" Destiny rushed to his side. She and the others had joined in the fight to put out the flames. "Where have you been?"

He stood up, still dazed. "Uh, how to put this?" he asked himself aloud. He could not help but feel a little bit of pride. "I was kicking your ex boyfriend's arse."

She stared at him, mouth agape. "Craig did this?"

"I'm afraid so." He put an arm around her shoulders and they looked up at the once majestic mansion. It had witnessed so much just to be taken out by a Neanderthal who had discovered how to use fire.

Dustin squinted. Then blinked a few times. "How…?"

It looked as if the fire was shrinking, dwindling all on its own. But it was not weakening or dying out. It was retreating back, like a video played in rewind. Bits of the mansion that had fallen off rose up and went back into place. Scorch marks shriveled.

The others had noticed this too and stared in awe and confusion. In mere minutes, Gracey Manor was back to its not quite pristine gothic beauty, just as it had been an hour ago. As one, the spirits cheered and clapped. Many started dancing and singing.

"There's something unsettling about this," Destiny murmured. Dustin nodded his agreement. Whatever had put the house back together had probably pulled him back.

Without warning, she was torn from his arms. Not unlike Dustin, she was pulled against her will by unseen hands. She was dragged, kicking and screaming, up the steps, over the porch, and into the house.

"Destiny!" he screamed just as she disappeared into the mansion.

He ran after her, following her shouts. Even if she had not made a sound he would have been able to track her. He knew where she was being taken.

Dustin arrived in the dark séance room just as Destiny was thrown roughly onto the floor. He ran to her side and did not have time to say any comforting words before a dark voice chuckled and clicked a tongue.

"Sorry 'bout the rough landing there, poppet," Asher cooed condescendingly, stepping out of the shadows. "It's just that you're late to the party and we really can't get it started without you."

O.o

A/N: A huge "thank you!" for WerecatBoy who helped a lot by looking over this chapter and suggesting the bit with George's mother's portrait, and just overall helpfulness!


	40. Destiny's Disembodiment

Chapter 39

"George!" screamed Koji, pointing at the mansion. "Destiny was just—" He stammered a bit, not sure how to put it. "_Sucked _into the house!" Wasting not a moment, he ran in, the ghost gliding at his heels. "Where do you think—"

"Leota's room!" Gracey instructed. The gallery's panel was already open, a welcome invitation.

The two hung a left and flew in. "What if it's a trap?" panted Koji, racing up the stairs.

"With her, _everything _is a trap!" the spirit hissed. "Just stay on your toes."

* * *

"What's going on?" Destiny demanded, getting up from her tossed position on the floor. 

Dustin stood by her side, glaring at his brother suspiciously. "Enough with the games, Asher."

The stocky former lawyer sniffed haughtily, as if offended by his sibling's serious tone. "Fine. We'll cut to the bloody formalities." With a wicked smirk, he gestured to a dark, curtained corner of the room theatrically. "Without further adieu, I bring to you that marvelous, malicious mystic, Madame Leota!"

Fot a minute, the drum and tamborine that had once been floating in the air and were now tossed into a corner, played. After waiting for a sufficient amount of suspense and drumroll, Leota threw back the curtain and strode out with a grand flourish. Her spectral body--her full body!-- was tinted a glowing green just as the inside of her crystal ball had been. "Really Asher," she cooed, running a long-nailed hand down his cheek and under his chin, "you don't have to be so dramatic."

"Leota!" shouted George angrily as he and Koji burst into the room. "How did you get out?"

The medium walked over to the ghost. With a finger pointed at his chest, she answered, "Why, _you _helped release me from my prison, my darling dead man! And now George, thanks to you, I won't only be free spiritually, but physically as well."

"Run Destiny!" Koji commanded. She didn't have to be told twice. The brunette bolted for the door. But Asher blocked her path, twirling a key mockingly, a sarcastic imitation of Koji.

Without giving his brother any warning, Dustin lunged at him. Unfortunately, the stocky spirit floated up, flying along the ceiling as he dangled the key tauntingly. Jaw gritted, Dustin gave chase, snatching at his brother's fat hands.

"Ain't it weird," Asher commented, ducking from his brother's grasp, "how some doors lock from the outside and others from the inside? Bizzare, in'nit?" he chortled and dove again.

Leota clucked her tongue at Koji. "Aw, the little baby brat cares about someone other than himself." She chuckled. "It's such a shame it's too late. Everything is already in progress," she said, pointing to a small, smoldering, iron black cauldron.

Normally, such a sight would make Destiny laugh. It smoked as if dry ice was in it, not some evil concoction. It reminded her of that scene from _Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, _the part where the wicked queen was preparing the sleeping death potion. She giggled, unable to hold it back. How could she take all of this so seriously? It was like some bad horror movie. She was the damsel in distress, helpless and pathetic. Only her knight in shining armor could save her from her horrific fate now, she groggily mused. Swaying a bit, she blinked in confusion as her vision began to blur. Disoriented and dizzy, she smacked into a wall before slumping down to the floor. The last thing she saw before everything went black was a pair of poisonous green eyes.

Dustin forgot about the key completely when he heard the thud of Destiny's body falling to the floor. As he flew down after her, Asher yanked him back by his shirt collar. "I tried tah warn ya, Dust. It was stupid to get involved with the flesh 'n' bones!"

Fire burned within Dustin. "So you knew, didn't you? About all of this? You knew the whole time!" he shouted, shoving Asher.

"Dustin, I 'ad no bloomin' clue you would—" The stockier sibling suddenly realized he had dropped the key in the grapple. Looking down, he saw it hit Koji on the head. Not bothering to chase the young man, he muttered, "It's too late, Dusty."

George dashed to Destiny's side, standing protectively in front of her. "She's of no concern, Leota," he growled. "You bear a grudge against me, so take it out on me! Leave my granddaughter out of this!"

Leota chuckled. "You're so funny when you're noble, Gracey. But once again, it's too little too late." The cauldron's smoke billowed out, smothering everything in the room.

Koji coughed, waving the oily smog away from his face. What felt like a heavy twig pelted his head. "OW! What—" First he looked up to see the fighting brothers. Then he looked down. A bit of bronze shone, but was lost as the smoke oozed over the carpet. Dropping to all fours, he frantically searched in vain. He gave up looking for it and tried to spot Leota. In the darkness, all he could make out was a pinpoint of lime colored light that was rapidly growing.

Madame Leota pointed a finger at Destiny and green energy crackled around the witch's hand. Snakelike, it slithered out, curling around Destiny's neck and lifting her up. The mortal hung limp, the tip of her shoes just a couple of inches from the carpet.

Unable to see, George blindly ran. There was nothing he could do against Leota's magic. At least, nothing he could do without the spell book. He had to get it! The others needed to be warned, too. Not knowing which direction he had been facing, he emerged in the door-lined hallway.

Having heard the commotion, the corridor ghouls were trying to get a message across by being louder than usual. Some even knew how to do Morse code and were pounding out a message with the doorknockers.

"What's going on?" L. L. asked worriedly, running up the hall, with the hitchhiking trio close behind. "We saw Destiny get—"

"Whooshed!" Gus waved his arms.

"Into the house!"

"Fires don't fix themselves," Phineas glared. "We knew something was up."

Ezra looked around. "Where's Kwijibo? And Des—" But before he could finish, a bloodcurdling scream filled the air. As one, they turned to Leota's room and ran.

* * *

Like the Red Sea, the smoke was parted, evaporated by the burst of green light that exploded in the chamber. Destiny's eyes flew open and she screamed. Intense pain shot through her body. She felt like she was being ripped open, like clawed hands had torn open her chest and grabbed her heart and was trying to pull it out.

Asher did not even bother to hold Dustin back as the lanky spirit raced down towards his beloved. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close just as an explosion of light filled the room, blinding him. With a groan, he and Destiny both crashed to the floor, holding one another.

Soon, Destiny's arms just hung limp and she put her head against his chest. Shivering, her teeth chattered with the intense cold that swept over her body. She felt so weak, unable to do so much as open here eyes. It felt like she could lay there in Dustin's embrace forever.

Mentally reeling, Destiny willed her eyelids up when she heard Dustin tearfully whisper in her ear, "I'm so sorry. Oh God, I'm so sorry!"

With great effort, she lifted her head. "Hmm?" Odd. She put her hands on his chest. He felt solid. But he was still transparent. And she…

Destiny gasped. Her arms, her hands, her torso, her legs… Her whole body was blue and see-through!

Wrapping his fingers around hers, Dustin looked into her wide, worried eyes. "We'll fix this," he vowed. "I promise."

A sharp cackle made them turn. Destiny held back a scream. She was looking at herself. But it wasn't her. It was her body, standing with her hands on her hips, smirking with her lips, but glaring with eyes that were not her own. The calm, deep brown had been replaced with a poisonous green. It wasn't just the eyes that were wrong. Everything from her stance to the cock of her hip and even the way her eyebrows were arched looked completely alien.

"Oh, you poor unfortunate souls," a voice that was Destiny's--and at the same time was as far from it as possible--gushed. Grinning, Leota flourished her arms and spun around. "So, honestly, tell me what you think. Isn't it just too cute? Not exactly my fit, though." Critically, she gazed down and ran her hands down her waist and hips. "A little too skinny for my tastes. And this dress! We're going to have to do something about that." With a snap of her fingers, the flapper skirt turned into a long black dress, complete with a slit up the right side to her thigh. The short-heeled shoes became matching black high heels. "Much better."

Destiny trembled with rage. She didn't know this woman. She had never done anything to her. Yet she had the _nerve _to just take her body! Leota was wearing Destiny like a bad suit! Granted, the dress looked really good and she wondered why she never had the guts to wear something like that, but that was beside the point.

With a growl, the former mortal leapt up and charged Leota. The medium just stood there, hands on her hips, and waited. She flicked a bit of lint off of the dress as Destiny ran through her. Frustrated, Destiny glared down at her transparent hands and took a few unsuccessful swipes at Leota.

"You have so much to learn, dear," Madame Leota stated in a bored tone. "But luckily, you'll have many, many years to figure it out."

"MOTHER!"

Leota turned. Her little daughter stood just inside the door, with her father and the trio of hitchhikers. "Mother!" she cried again as the others stared in shock.

Koji, who had been standing in slack-jawed silence, took the advantage and ran at Leota. Before he could tackle her, she whipped around, arm out. He came to a sudden halt and floated in the air, wriggling helplessly. "Uh-uh-uh," she chided. "I don't know if George told you this, but we have nine hundred and ninety-nine happy haunts here. But there's room for a thousand. Any volunteers, hmm?" She flicked a finger up and his right arm rose.

"In case you haven't noticed," she explained, "thanks to my new body, my powers are completely renewed." She flung Koji into a chair. Then, a drawer flew open and a pair of antique silver handcuffs flew out and locked around his wrist and the chair's thin leg, forcing him to fall face first onto the floor. A little key floated into her palm and she tucked it into a tiny pocket in her dress.

Staring at the cuffs in shock, Koji screamed, "Why do you have handcuffs!"

"Those are Houdini's lucky pair."

"Yes, but why do you have them? What did you do with them? Am I going to get some kind of nasty fungus wearing these? What is that stain? Is that blood?"

She ignored his whining, focused instead on the three ghosts running at her from behind. "You just never learn, do you?" She sent Ezra, Phineas, and Gus flying. Destiny and Dustin reached out and grabbed them before they could go through the wall.

"We need a plan!" Destiny hissed.

A cry pulled their attention away. "Mother, put him down! Please!"

Leota had George dangling in the air. She made the broken and shattered crystal ball float towards her from its place on the table.

"Oh, I have looked so forward to this!" she smirked. The sphere began to come back together and was soon whole. Master Gracey screamed and kicked and swam, but it was in vain. He was pulled into the crystal ball and it was set back down on the table next to Koji.

Leota walked over to the ball and tapped it, chuckling as George flinched. "I do hope you're comfortable, Master Gracey. Sorry for the cramped conditions. It's a little cozy."

"You're not going to get away with this!" George snarled.

She traced his face with a finger. "And who is going to stop me?" Picking up the ball, she turned around. "Your fr…" Fury in her eyes, she turned to Asher. "Where did they go?"

The Cockney ghost was standing in a dark corner, taking a sip from his flask. He shrugged and said casually, "Dunno. They must have slunk out when you had your back turned."

"What?" Leota slammed the crystal ball hard into its stand.

Striding forward, Asher scoffed, "What diff'rence does it make anyway? You got the body, you got the twit," he gestured to Koji.

"Hey!" Koji objected from the rug.

"And soon you'll be all powerful and whatever else you want. So what does it matter if they're 'iding?" He snorted. "Not like they can do anything anyway."

Waggling his eyebrows, he continued, "So, what about my end of the bargain?"

Pretending to be forgetful, she mumbled, "Hmm, and what was that?"

"'Wha' was…' What do you mean, 'what was that?' Without me, you wouldn't 'ave gotten any of this together! _I_ put that newspaper clipping in her apartment! _I _got all of your stupid ingredients! You owe me! You told me you would give me life!" he shouted.

"Hmm, I did, didn't I?" she mused as she searched through a drawer. Thoughtfully, she pulled out an elaborate dagger. The handle was ivory, decorated with gold Celtic knots that formed the shapes of beasts. The blade was beautiful, silver and sharp.

"Unfortunately, I can't do that. You see, I need one thousand ghosts, and if you're not one of them, well, I'm going to have to get another. Do you know how much trouble that would be, finding a ghost to replace you? It took so long to wait until Mr. Wendell was curious enough to come in. And," she smiled at the terrified young man, "why should I take the privilege of him being number one thousand away?"

Kicking his legs, Koji tried to scramble back as she walked forward with the knife. Stammering out any hope of a stall, he cried out, "Wait! That—that's an athame, isn't it?"

Leota arched an eyebrow and glanced at the blade. "Yes, as a matter of fact it is."

"Then-then you can't use that to kill me! Athames are strictly ceremonial and cannot be used to draw blood!" he sputtered.

She laughed, long and loud. Wiping a tear from her eye, she muttered, "That's priceless." Clearing her throat, she turned back to him. "My dear boy, do you know who uses an athame?"

"A wi-wiccan," he stammered.

"That's right." She nodded with a calm smile. Then she frowned and snapped, "And do I look like some peace loving, snotty, little whiny white witch to you! I stole this from a wiccan, stabbed her with it, and took her money! Do you think I care if this is an athame?" She shook the knife.

Koji watched her raise the blade high. Tears filled his eyes. This psychotic witch was going to kill him! He was only twenty-four! There was so much he had never accomplished. Like…like… Like what? He'd told off his pompous boss and made friends with some of the most unique people he had ever known. Had he told his mother he loved her the last time he'd talked to her? He was pretty sure he had. Well, all of those affairs were in order. It was time to die.

But before she could plunge the knife down, she was caught in a tight embrace. "Mother! Oh, mother I've missed you so much!" L. L. shouted with joy. "We've got so much to talk about. Did you miss me?" She tugged on her mother's hand, urging her away from the chair. "I drew you a picture." She held up a sheet of paper. "It has you and me and daddy. See? Daddy has the blue suit…"

"How you holdin' up, Kanechewa?" Ezra whispered, popping up through the floor. "Don't worry, we'll have you out in a minute. Just have one thing to take care of first." Reaching down, he pulled Gus up.

Standing over the crystal ball, Ezra licked his lips nervously, and wiggled his fingers. This was going to take precise skill. He wiped his brow.

"Hurry up!" George hissed.

"You can't rush perfection," Ezra snarled back. Then, moving quickly, he grabbed the crystal ball and lifted Gus's shackles and switched the two.

"Hiya, Koji," Gus waved, dangling with his head an inch above the floor.

Phineas appeared at Ezra's side. The skinny specter tossed the ball to the fat phantom. Phineas tucked George under his arm like he was a football and ran for the boarded up door, arm out, preparing to play battering ram.

"No! No, no, no, no, no!" George protested. With a crash, the door burst apart and Phineas kept running, humming a victory song. "Just don't spike me!" George ordered. "Oh, I think I'm going to be sick!"

Leota shoved her daughter away, jerking her head towards the commotion. "What?" she screamed when she saw Gus dangling from her table, sweetly waving at her. Then he stuck his tongue out at her and blew her a raspberry before vanishing.

Asher just shrugged again when she cast a deadly glare at him.

"Me eyesight's not what it used to be."

Leota took the flask from him and threw it to the floor. "You pathetic drunk! Prove to me you can at least do one thing right. Stay and watch him," she pointed to Koji, "while I deal with those vagrants." With a determined stride, she left the room to search. Her magic could only bring forth so much, and besides, she wanted to deal with those two personally.

L. L. skipped over to Asher and batted her eyelashes at him. "Hello, Mr. Ashes."

"'Ello, rugrat."

She smiled sweetly at him. Then she kicked him in the shins and ran to Koji.

"You lit'le witch!" Asher cried, holding his ankle and hopping up and down.

Winking, she held up the key she had stolen from her mother when she hugged her. Unlocking the cuffs, she said, "Mr. Dobbins is only the second best thief here." As Koji rubbed his sore wrist, she grabbed his arm and lead him towards the door. "Come on, we've got to get to the others."

Suddenly speaking up, Asher said, "But you don't know 'ow to defeat her!"

"And I suppose you do?" questioned Koji, not believing him for a second.

"Yes!" He jumped in front of the two. "I know what it will take to stop 'er. And if you don't wanna trust me, so be it. But I'll tell ya upfront I gain nothing from workin' with 'er. I tried getting out of the deal days ago. What I did was wrong. I don't think I can ever forgive myself for hurtin' Dust."

"It isn't just your brother you've hurt," Koji snapped as they followed L. L. to the mansion's cellar. "I was almost killed! Destiny's disembodied! And who knows what Leota will do now."

The three scurried down the cellar stairs after Koji carefully shut the door. Destiny, Dustin, and Gus were there, along with George, who was disoriented and miffed that he'd been rolled down the steps.

Dustin bristled at seeing his brother. "How could you let him in here?"

Standing on his tiptoes, Asher poked Dustin's chest. "Don't even wait to hear me out before goin' on your self-righteous rant!"

"Pardon me for going on an assumption you've proven time and time again to be true! Tell me why I shouldn't just strangle you right now."

"One," Asher held up a finger. "I'm dead." Dustin had the modesty to look ashamed. "Two, I know how we can put the witch back in the fishbowl." Much more somber, he said, "I'm sorry. This is by far the worst thing I've ever done. If Ezra wasn't runnin' around upstairs I'd apologize to him too. Destiny," he took her hand, "I owe you the biggest apology. I don't know why you love my goofy git of a brother…"

Dustin grinned sheepishly and scratched the back of his head.

"But I 'ope the two of you can be 'appy together, and I couldn't be 'appier for you two. Now," he clapped his hands together, "'ere's the problem. There's a reason Leota needed Destiny's body. We can blame Georgie boy for that."

George frowned. "I'm just not bowling strikes tonight."

Gus guffawed.

"Ye see, she needed a body to regain all of 'er powers. But she didn't 'ave 'er own to go back to. If she did, she would have used magic to reverse all the decay and what-not. But magic can only do so much."

George groaned. "And I thought I had been doing a good thing."

"What do you mean?" asked Destiny. She still wasn't used to floating and held out her arms, waving them a bit to balance an inch above the floor. Dustin's hands hovered near her torso, ready to help steady her. Leading her through the floors had been heart wrenching to watch. She had seemed so helpless and confused. But the whole time he had been by her side, catching her when she started to fall, reassuring her when she was nervous.

"When the caretaker came back after I had died," George explained, "I told him to have Leota's body cremated."

Asher nodded. "She couldn't bloody well use ashes. So she needed a living body if she couldn't 'ave 'er own, one with the same blood that ran through its veins as the one who had condemned her. As she said, 'A Gracey got me in, a Gracey gets me out.'" He reached into his blazer for his flask, and was disappointed when he remembered it was on the floor in the séance room.

"So." Destiny thought about it. "We trap her in…her ashes?"

"Yup." Aside to Dustin, Asher said, "Always gotta go for the brainy ones, don'tcha? Why couldn't you get some dumb bimbo like I always did?"

"Because I have standards," Dustin smirked.

"'Ey! I 'ad standards! They were just low. Really low." He cleared his throat. "But the tricky thing is, we need to know where Leota's remains are."

Brow furrowed, George tried to remember. "They're in a black canister…in the old family crypt. I ordered that she be placed on the shelf near my father's coffin. I thought the two would get along nicely." He chuckled darkly without a trace of humor.

"So, we'll just go get them," said Destiny, already walking out.

Asher waggled a finger. "It's not quite that simple, poppet. Knowing Leota, she already has her goons out and about. We've got our ghosts fighting for us, no doubt, if they know what's goin' on. But it won't be a piece o' cake."

Dustin smiled and took Destiny's hand. "You know I'll stand by you no matter what."

"Yeah, me too," Koji piped up.

"All right." Destiny exhaled worriedly and noticed for the first time she wasn't breathing. "Let's get to it then."


	41. Into the Abyss

Chapter Forty

Calm. She had to remain calm. But it was almost impossible for Destiny. Outwardly, her demeanor was one of somberness, her brow furrowed in thoughtful determination, but inside she was screaming. She was frightened, but mainly she was angry with herself. How could she have let herself be taken so easily? At the time, she had felt so helpless. But looking back, she couldn't help but think that maybe she could have done more.

_That's all you are, isn't it?_ she bitterly thought. _A damsel in distress!  
_

She was so busy berating herself she didn't pay attention to staying afloat and tripped.

Immediately, Dustin's hands grabbed her waist and pulled her up. Clearing his throat nervously, he let her go. "Heh, sorry," he grinned bashfully. "Just trying to help." When she gave him a small smile back, he added, "You're getting better."

"Thanks." Arms out, she balanced herself. "It's the walking on air thing that throws me off."

"Don't think so hard about it," Dustin said. "It's automatic, like…" He tried to think of a good example.

"Breathing?" Koji offered brightly.

Sighing, Dustin turned to glare at the former paranormal investigator. "I was going to say blinking."

Asher chortled. "Good one, mate. Ha, and they say I'm insensitive!"

Staying close enough to catch her if she should fall again, but back enough so she could freely move, Dustin floated alongside Destiny. Now he didn't worry so much about making his feet touch the floor as he walked. In a sweet act of chivalry, he had given her his duster coat, but it seemed to do little to make her any warmer. He and Destiny led the group, which also consisted of Asher and Koji. He had nagging doubts about the loyalty of the former, though. He didn't think his brother was evil, really, or even horribly bad. Misguided maybe? Simply selfish? Or were his rectangular lenses just rose tinted?

Destiny bobbed along, pleased with her progress. She _was _getting better, and that scared her a little. The best comparison she could make to being a ghost was walking underwater, only you didn't need any snorkels or air tanks. It was a sensation she could simply describe as feeling "floaty". With one hard push of her left foot, she shot up five feet. As soon as she descended, she bounced up again, this time putting less power into it.

"What are you doing?" Koji asked, an eyebrow arched and lip curled in confusion. He watched as she bounced a little ahead of them.

"Um," Destiny came to a slow stop just an inch above the floor. Sheepishly, she admitted, "I was pretending I was Angela Lansbury." When he gave her yet another blank stare, she elaborated, "In _Bed Knobs and Broomsticks_, the scene where she and the children are in the animated underwater world. It was my favorite movie when I was a kid." She could feel herself blush. "I thought that's what it must have felt like." She coughed a suppressed chuckle into her fist. It had been nice. For a few seconds she had forgotten how scared she was.

Asher scoffed. "You do realize we're down 'ere for your benny-fit, right? We can't waste time playin' around!" Absentmindedly, he reached into the inner pocket of his blazer. Realizing he had left behind his vial, he frowned and pulled his jacket straight. With nothing to occupy his hands, he wiggled his fingers and clenched his fists whenever they weren't shoved into his pockets.

"Nor do we need a crowd," Dustin mumbled thoughtfully. Louder he commanded, "Asher, could you stay back with George, Gus, and Little Leota?"

"Oh, sure," he agreed pleasantly. He began to stride back. "Wait!" He shook his head and marched to his brother, pushing his derby forward in an effort to look tougher. Brows furrowed and nostrils flared, he snarled, "You still don't trust me do you? Even after I let you escape?"

Dustin put a hand on his brother's shoulder and looked him in the eye. "Tell me the truth—and I'll know if you're lying, I've had years of practice—did you do what you did as an act of brotherly love and compassion for all that is good, or did you do it as a way to thumb your nose at Leota?"

Asher bit his lip and looked down. "It's not that I don't love you, really. I do. And Dessie seems like a sweet girl, 'onestly…" Trailing off, he took off his hat and wrung it in his hands. "Yeah, uh, quite a bit of it 'ad to do with her weaseling out of our deal."

Dustin rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Why am I not surprised?"

"I say we chuck him out to Leota's goons!" Koji suggested.

Asher shouted, "Who died and made you Mr. Moral?"

"Shh!" hissed Destiny. "We _are _trying to sneak here. We don't know how long Ezra and Phineas can keep Leota busy. We have to get to the crypt and get back." Suddenly, she realized all eyes were on here. Being a leader felt almost as strange as being a ghost. She took a deep breath, useless physically, but it helped center her. Anxiety attacks would do her no good here. "Asher, I think you were sincere when you apologized to us…"

"I was!"

Chin between thumb and forefinger, she smirked. "And what better way to get your revenge on Leota and to show us you meant your apology by helping keep that crystal ball out of her reach? Besides, a smaller group out there, the better, we don't want to be noticed. But I imagine that crystal ball is important to her. We need as many protecting it as possible. Well, what are you waiting for? Go protect my grandfather!" She emphasized with her arm stretched out and a finger pointed.

Asher sighed. "Fine, fine. I'll keep the fishbowl safe." He turned and shuffled away, mumbling to himself. "Bossy just like a Gracey…"

When Asher was out of earshot, Koji asked, "Do you really think we can trust him?"

"If we can't, we can always trust Gus to knock him on his face."

* * *

Dustin poked his head up through the cellar door and peeked out, coming nose to nose with his sister. "Bea!" 

"Hi, Dusty Duster doo!" she sang cheerfully. Behind her, hideous ghouls chased the mansion's friendly spooks. Leota had released her minions to search for the crystal ball, but they found more fun in tormenting the spirits. But the Gracey ghosts weren't total cowards. Those that could fight fought back. Clairece beat at one with her candelabrum. From the attic, Emily flung antiques out the window. The wraiths from the ballroom's organ could be seen nipping at the necks of the rogues like giant, white mosquitoes. Manny mowed them over, zooming into groups and barreling into them on his bike. Even Rolly got in some good trampling.

Dustin floated the rest of the way out and Bea explained, "As soon as we saw this lot of plonkers pop up again, we knew we had some real trouble. Bunch of twits, really. They get distracted by anything that moves and look for a fight." She lowered her voice. "But the last time I saw them was right before George died. That witch sent them out, didn't she?"

Dustin nodded. "She knows. She knows we know how to defeat her. Listen: keep those slimy fiends occupied. Destiny and I have to get to the Gracey crypt. And if you see Destiny—that is, if you see Destiny's body, don't be fooled. It's Leota. She's stolen it."

Bea gasped. "Oh no! Where's Destiny? I mean, what happened to her?"

"In the cellar with Koji. She's like us now. Leota just…pushed her out."

Bea bit her bottom lip, her sea green eyes exuding sympathy. Looking up with grim determination, she cried, "You can count on us!" and saluted. Turning around she barked, "Right-o, men! Keep a path open to the Gracey dead bed! On the double troops, on the double!" Her skirts flouncing up with each high step, she marched away.

Dustin leaned down to help Destiny out. "You would have thought she'd have been the one in the military."

Koji pushed open the wooden doors and skulked out. "It's a battlefield. Where's the mausoleum?"

Dustin nodded to a garage-sized cement structure. A short flight of steps led up to a thick stone door. On either side of the steps were wraith-like statues. It was hard to tell if the shrouded figures were a warning to, or beckoning, visitors. An elegant 'G' was set into the archway above the entrance. Weather had eroded away bits, giving it a ragged appearance, but otherwise it had aged well. Moss that had fallen from overhanging branches covered the flat roof. Vines snaked up the sides. Overall, it was not a warm, friendly looking place.

"Stealth or speed?" asked Destiny, handing the coat back to Dustin.

He quickly thrust his arms through the sleeves and shimmied the coat on. "Speed. On three. One…"

"What are we doing?" asked Koji.

"Two…"

"Huh?"

"Three!"

The two spirits took off, leaving a stunned Koji to jog behind. "Why didn't you say we were running?"

Reaching the mausoleum's steps, they had to come to a halt. Two figures materialized in front of the door. One was a plump bellied, hooded man, with a double headed axe resting comfortably on his shoulder. The other was a scrawny knight with his head clutched in his right hand.

The knight's mustache bristled in annoyance. "Who goes there?"

"Where?" asked Koji.

"Duh, youse guys," answered the executioner. "Who is you and what does you want?"

"Please, let us into the crypt!" pleaded Destiny. "If you do, we can reverse this mess!" She gestured to the ensuing havoc behind her.

The knight pondered this. "Well, since thy fair maiden doth ask permission, she shall passeth!"

Destiny sighed in relief. "Thank you!" She ran in, and Dustin and Koji started to follow.

The axe came down right in front of them.

"Where does youse think you're goin'?"

"To help her," groaned Dustin, frustrated. "Do you understand what's going on out there? Evil forces have been set loose upon the grounds! We need to get a certain item out of there to put a stop to it! Why else would you be guarding this place if there wasn't something important inside?"

The knight brought his head up in front of Dustin's face, a sneer of disapproval on it. "We doth not question the burden placed upon our shoulders by Lord Gracey. We have stood guard here since his death, and we shall continue to do so." He stood straight, clicking his heels together. The burly axe wielder mimicked him, only with a lot more belly jiggling. "Since thou was so very rude and decided to barge in, thou cannot pass!"

Koji rolled his eyes. "Airport security isn't this bad."

Dustin thought of this in the sense of medieval terms. Brightening, he asked the knight, "Hast thou no chivalry? Wouldest thou let a fair damsel traverse into the pit where evil doth lie?"

The executioner poked Dustin in the chest. "Get wif da times! It's da twenty-first century."

"Indeed!" cheered the knight. "Or is thou a misogynist?"

Dustin sighed. "She's new at being a ghost! She might need our help!" Then a look of realization lit his face. Looking up at the axe heads, he scoffed. With a sniff, he said to Koji, "Well, what am I worried about? _I'm _dead!" Chin up and a wearing a smug smirk, he confidentially strode forward.

_Whoosh! _

Quickly, Dustin caught up to Destiny, who was waiting just beyond the first step that began the long, downward descent into the crypt.

"Uh…" She gaped.

"I'm sorry it took so long. I had some trouble with the guards." He grinned proudly. "But I showed them!"

Destiny bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. "Dustin, I don't think you've noticed…"

"Hey, Dustbin!" Koji shouted. "You might want to come back for your legs!"

Dustin looked down. Everything from below his waist was gone. Hearing uproarious guffaws, he turned to the mausoleum's entrance. The executioner snorted while the knight wiped tears from his eyes. Koji had to lean against one of the statues to keep from falling. The other half of the spectacled spook stood patiently, tapping a foot.

Babbling in embarrassment, Dustin glided back and reattached himself.

Unfortunately, the three's laughter brought about some unwanted attention…

A gaggle of Leota's ghouls suddenly pounced upon the group outside the crypt, snarling and hissing! Landing a punch in the snout of one, Dustin yelled, "Run, Destiny!"

Terrified, she stood still for a moment, torn between running to the crypt and running to help the others. But Manny, Bea, and Clairece soon jumped into the fight. "GO!" screamed Dustin again.

Destiny bolted, her transparent feet never making contact with the stairs. When she finally got to the chamber, she had to stop to look around. It was basically what she expected it to be.

There were several urns along the walls, each in its own little niche. Glancing at the dates, it seemed most were from the generation before George's father, remains that had been kept with the family until a proper place was finally found to put them. Only one coffin was laid in the middle of the floor. That had to be the final resting place of George's father. Destiny wondered why George had not been placed in here, but instead had a gravestone out front. Perhaps it had been in his will. Adjacent to the long, rectangular stone casing was an urn, black as ebony.

On a small silver plaque, an epitaph was engraved.

_Dear sweet Leota,_

_Beloved by all._

_In regions beyond now._

_But having a ball._

"Somebody loves irony," she muttered to herself. Gingerly, she picked up the case. "All right, missy, you're coming with me."

"You didn't think it would be that easy, did you?" a corpse-like wraith hissed behind her.

Destiny slowly turned. "And I so hoped I'd get out of here without hearing a cliché," she moaned.

"Hand over the ashes!" it snarled.

Destiny looked at the urn and then back at the baddie. "Or…"

"Or I'll be forced to tear you limb from limb!"

She reflected on the threat. Thoughtfully, she said, "Oh, I've seen what happens to ghosts who get cut apart. It's no big deal."

Taken aback, the creep thought on this for only a split second. A hideous, bizarrely curling at the tips of the lips grin, slowly took shape on his decayed face. "But your friend…your living friend… _he _can feel pain!" He chuckled darkly, sure he had hit upon a nerve.

Destiny just casually shrugged. "He's had Emily tae-bo him. I don't think you could do any worse." Her grip becoming less solid, she dropped the urn.

"No!" the ghoul shrieked clawed fingers shakily reaching out.

Destiny caught it before it could spill or hit the floor. Now it was her turn to chuckle evilly. "Hmm…what's it to you if I drop it?"

The spook's eyes grew wide and he trembled. "If any of her ashes spill," he hissed in his gravelly voice, "she'll send me back to purgatory!"

Destiny glanced at the urn, then at the minion, then back at the urn. Her lips curled into a wicked smirk. Shaking the vase, she said in a soft singsong tone, "I've got a jar of ashes…"

"Please don't do that!"

"I've got a jar of ashes! I've got a jar of ashes!" She danced towards him and he flew back. "I've got an urn of Leota! I've got an urn of Leota!"

With a final wail, he raced out, not wanting to be anywhere near, lest he could be blamed for any accidents.

Chuckling, she held the urn tightly and floated to the entrance.

* * *

A/N: The epitaph is found on the Madame Leota tombstone in Walt Disney World. And yes, yet another _Pirates of the Caribbean _based joke. 


	42. We All Scream for Ice Cream

Chapter Forty-One

Leota snarled in frustration, seething as Phineas and Ezra continued to dart away in front of her, jumping through doors and out walls. Eyes narrowing into thin slits, she snatched at them, mind too clouded with rage to think clearly. They wouldn't hold still long enough for her to concentrate. If she could just focus for half a minute, she would be able to tear their transparent tongues out! That would stop them from laughing!

Exactly why did she hate them so much?

Phineas floated ahead of her, a small guitar of unknown origin in his hands. Strumming it, he sang,

_"She had a wagon in Sam's traveling show;_

_Could tell your fortune for some money you'd throw._

_Leota would do whatever she coooooooooouuuuld!_

_To stab you in the back and steal your goods!"_

Ezra chimed in,

"_Gypsy, soul stealin' thief!_

_You'd hear it from the ghosts of the manse!_

_We'd call her Gypsy, soul stealin' thief!_

_But ev'ry night Georgie'd come around,_

_And lay his money down!"_

Well, that had a lot to do with it. But deep down she knew the real reason was because they had seen right through her from the very beginning. Everyone hated her _now_, but Ezra, Phineas, and Gus had been the only men to never give into her charms while she was alive. Asher had been eating out of her palm almost instantly. George had taken a while. Only after his beloved wife had been dead for three months had Leota been able to seduce him into her will. But those three idiots, whose slight of hand and smooth talking were nothing compared to her magic, had done what no businessman or aristocrat had ever managed to do.

There was one other thing that had wore her nerves thin…

"And I'm half Gypsy!" she screamed. "Why does everyone call me either Creole or Gypsy?! I'm both!"

Ezra managed to look apologetic, pausing to put on a sad face and clutch his hat sheepishly. "Oh, we're sorry. We never realized. How ignorant of us!" Turning to Phineas, he said, "Did you hear that, Phinny?"

"Yeah!" Phineas started strumming a new song, but Ezra sang.

_"My mother married a pure Creole man! I was never part of her clan.  
Skin pigment said that I was black by law,  
Daddy's family said I'd have a hairy jaw.  
Half-breed! That's all I ever heard!  
Half-breed, how I love to hate the word!"_

Cackling, the half brothers disappeared through the carpet, planning their next prank.

Hands curled into fists, she screamed a cry muffled through gritted teeth, and stomped a foot. Perhaps her anger had made her make the mental lapse, but she forgot for a moment she was wearing high heels. It had also been a very long time since she'd had feet, or, let alone, shoes with pointed heels that required a bit of balance to move in. She slammed her foot down hard, snapping the heel in half and sending herself crashing to the floor.

"Timber!" called Phineas.

Laughter resounded from behind the hallway doors, through the walls, and even down from the ceiling. She took off the shoes and flung them as far as she could. "Quiet!" she screamed. "I put all of you in your prisons! Stop your mocking or so help me I will send you some place far, far worse!" It was a bluff. Back when she was alive, she could drag spirits out of the outskirts of the underworld, the very edges where they teetered between Earth and purgatory. But she couldn't put them there, or anywhere else not in the mansion, really. It was easy to summon those ghosts. Most were too afraid to go further, for fear of eternal damnation if they did. That was why the ones she got to help her were the wraiths, the cowards she could manipulate so easily with assurances of an afterlife. She didn't tell them what _kind_ of an afterlife, of course, but said there'd be one. They would get to it. Eventually. They would have to cross over sooner or later.

"Awww!" Ezra stuck his head up through the rug. "Leota fall down! Did she get a wittle boo-boo?" He stuck out his lip in a pout. "Does she need a kissy to make her feel better?"

Any sharp retort was bit back as she winced. Her tailbone had hit hard. The carpet was thin and threadbare, and offered no real cushion. It left her a little stunned. It hadn't hurt that bad, it was just a shock. She hadn't felt pain in so long that she had forgotten what it was like. She remembered inflicting it on others numerous times, but she couldn't recall the last time she'd ever been hurt physically.

Gingerly, she pushed herself up. Leaning against the wall, she waited for the stinging to subside.

"You know, you wouldn't be in this mess if you hadn't escaped," Phineas pointed out smugly.

"Leave me alone!" she screamed. She didn't care about them anymore. She didn't even care about the crystal ball anymore. With luck, George would just stay stuck in it. It didn't really matter if he didn't. She had this new body. She had a life again!

Turning, she caught sight of herself in a small oval mirror hanging on the wall. A thin, somewhat long, pale face stared back at her. It was a far cry from the beautiful, brown tone. The nose was too thin. Rather than the long, gorgeous, thick black curls that had trailed nearly down to her waist, she had plain, thin, shoulder length brown hair.

She hated it! Resisting the urge to smash the mirror into a thousand pieces, she took a deep breath and tried to reassess the situation.

She glanced back at the glass. What did that four-eyed wimp see in Destiny?

Maybe with the right spells she could fix this, make her look like her former self. She stroked her—Destiny's—rounded chin thoughtfully. Then she tapped it with her fingers. Oh, the little things she'd gone so long without! Appendages! How she had missed them!

What else did she miss?

Her new stomach rumbled. Eating! She missed eating! She hungered for the Cajun cuisine she hadn't had since she was a much younger woman. Or maybe Indian food…or Italian! The more she thought about it, the hungrier she grew and the more her mouth watered. And there was also dessert too, afterwards.

Madame Leota looked down the long, dreary halls, listened to the muffled commotion from the graveyard, and heard the wails from inside the walls, and behind the doors.

Her plan to complete her spell, bring forth Hell on Earth, and reign supreme could wait a while. No one here was going anywhere.

_In fact, _she reflected, _why even bother with it? _All those that had wronged her were dead and buried, or just dead. George was stuck just as she had been. And if he got out…he'd just be stuck in the mansion. She could leave them all behind. She wasn't bound to the grounds.

Grinning, she tried out her new smile. It would need some work.

After waiting through the long quiet, Phineas and Ezra popped up through the floor again. "Um," Phineas raised a finger questioningly, "what're you doing? Remember us? How about the crystal ball?"

Ignoring them, she walked to Destiny's room and began pilfering through her closet. Finding a pair of sneakers, she pushed them on.

"Oh Mistress of Darkness?" Ezra chimed. The two men turned away politely as she took off the dress and pulled on jeans and a sweater.

Brushing right past them, she grabbed Destiny's purse, and then walked out of the room…

"Crap!" Ezra shrieked.

"Hey! Get back here!" Phineas called as she strode through the foyer. "C'mon! Don't you want to torture us? Come torture us! Please!"

She got into Destiny's car. The keys were clipped to the purse and it took just a quick search through her memory to remember what to do with them. Clumsily, she backed the car out of the driveway.

"Uh! Uh!" Phineas sputtered, looking around desperately. "Uh...Ezra!" He grabbed the skinny man's shoulders, shaking him. "Quick, follow her as long as you can!" Letting him go, he shoved him forward towards the direction Leota had left. "I'm telling the others!"

"Don't know what I could honestly do to help, but okay!" Ezra vanished. He'd reappear in the backseat in a few seconds.

Phineas ran back into the house. "This is bad!" the plump phantom moaned, searching for any friends. "This is really, really bad! Oh, this is _so _bad! Ahh! Where's Kamikaze when you need him!"

* * *

Reaching out, Koji took the urn from Destiny, clutching it tightly to his chest as hideous wraiths tore at his coat.

Tired, and form flicking from holding the object for so long, Destiny commanded, "Back off! Her ashes spill, you're going back to…well, wherever it is you guys came from! I mean it!"

They stopped, giving this thought. Using the opportunity, Destiny, Dustin, and Koji ran back to the cellar.

After making sure the other two were half way down the steps, Dustin jumped in and shut the doors. "The fighting outside seems to have, heh," he chuckled dryly, "died down a little. Without Leota there to tell them what to do, they get bored and start wandering around." Quickly catching up with Destiny, he fell into step beside her. They looked at each other, smiling, and she slid her hand into his. "That was very brave of you, going into the crypt."

She sarcastically waved it away with her free hand, wearing the same playful smug look she learned from George. "Tweren't nothin'." Winking, she gave his hand a squeeze, making him glance at the floor shyly and then back at her.

Going back to where they'd left George, Asher, and L. L., Koji ranted, "You know, if she could just bring in those simps, then why did she want to kill me? What was the point in that! It just makes me even madder!"

When they got to the quartet, they found the little girl, the ex-convict, and the lawyer sitting on old crates. The wooden boxes were still filled with full bottles of wine. Amazingly, Asher hadn't ripped a crate open and started guzzling. Slowly, he and the other two gently pushed the crystal ball to one another with their feet, like a group of kids on a playground feeling too lazy to really play soccer, but not wanting to give up the ball. George looked a little dizzy and annoyed, but not the worse for wear.

Asher, who'd heard Koji's ranting, kept his eyes on the floor as he kept tapping the ball. "Oh, those gits have been here for years, mostly hiding in the walls and in the graveyard. They're not new. She can't bring in any new spirits."

In the short silence that followed, Destiny, Koji, and Dustin all stared at George, trying to figure out how to word their query. Reading their confused expressions, he sighed. "It keeps them entertained," the aristocrat explained wearily, bobbing in an effort to stay upright.

"How's everyone doing?" asked Destiny.

"Fine," Asher shrugged. "'Aven't had any problems. No one bothered us, actually, although we've been 'earin' some shoutin' above us. We didn't go up to check it out."

Wheezing and clumsy footsteps made them all turn. Half jogging, half tumbling, Phineas bounced down the stairs into the basement. He stopped in front of them, bent with his hands on his knees.

"What's wrong?" asked Dustin.

Phineas held up a finger and panted for a few moments more. "Sorry," he gasped, standing straight, "I've been running all over this place!"

"You don't even breathe!" Koji pointed out.

"Oh, right," Phineas smiled, instantly refreshed. "Silly me," he laughed brightly. Gus guffawed, pointing at him.

Dustin groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose. It could be the direst of circumstances…Come to think of it, it was! And that twit was still cracking jokes! "Phineas, what is it you need to tell us?" he asked, hoping his paper thin patience wasn't showing in his voice.

Gravely serious, he answered, "It's Leota. She's just left!"

"What do you mean, 'left'?" George demanded.

"Left, as in, not on the premises anymore. As in, walked out the door. As in, got in the car and drove away!"

Destiny collapsed onto one of the crates. "No! No! No! No! No!" she moaned with her face in her hands. Her expression was full of fury when she lifted her head. "My body! She's got my body! What is she doing with it?! I thought she was bent on some world domination…cliché…plot!" She could hardly spit it out, she was so angry. "Why would she leave?!"

George rolled over to his granddaughter's feet, giving her a sympathetic look. "Leota's been trapped in this wretched thing for sixty years. She's probably out doing the things she misses from her life."

"Oh, and she took your purse," Phineas added. Before Destiny could start screaming obscenities, he explained, "Ezra's with her."

"But how long will that last?"

"About fifty more minutes. Then if we lose her when he gets pulled back, we're, uh, kinda screwed. But he's keeping tabs on her now."

"Now, yes, but what about later?" Destiny's voice was sharp.

Little Leota bit her bottom lip, staring thoughtfully at her feet. Brightening, she looked up. "Mother," she said softly, "used to spy on people using the crystal ball." Pointing at it, she continued, "Maybe we can spy on her."

Koji picked up the crystal ball, bringing it to eye level. "Okay," he said. "How does it work? Like a Magic 8 Ball?" He shook it. "Show me Leota!" He got nothing but a very dizzy George Gracey, whose eyes were rolling around, as his head bumped into the sides with hard _plinks_.

"No!" L. L. laughed. "She says a spell to do it."

Dustin's eyes grew wide. "Her book! We had it before the fire! George, where did you leave it?"

Shaking his head from side to side, George tried to focus his vision. "I—I…" He waited until the two blurry images of Dustin he was seeing finally merged into one. "I recall reading it after Destiny was locked in her room."

"Let's go!" Gus cheered.

* * *

When one's detached from life for so long, one tends to forget how the world functions.

It was past three a.m. Only one restaurant nearby had been open, some little diner that just had EAT in red-orange flicking letters on the roof. The waitress—a middle aged, grease stained, plate jockey named Mable, whose bouffant towered on her head like some auburn colored Empire State Building—kept insisting she knew her. Correction, she knew _Destiny. _It didn't matter if Leota had said she was Destiny's twin sister and had never been to the diner before. It wouldn't have made Mable shut up about her niece's inability to get a date, and kept asking if "Kojo" was still available.

After one look at the food, Leota left.

To top it all off Ezra would not shut up.

"Yeah, you'd think _some _place would be open, with Halloween and all. Hey! Look! Some kids are throwing a party in that house there! Let's crash it!"

"It's just a bunch of stupid teenagers," Leota sneered, not even looking.

"But that's what's fun about it." His attention was drawn back to the window. "Ooh! Look, an old boardwalk! They have rides! Let's stop there Leota! Please, please, please!"

"It's _closed!_"

"You picked a great time to go out and live again…Could you turn on the radio? None of that old stuff."

She scowled into the rearview mirror. "I don't like music." It was so frustrating! She really wanted to pull over so she could wring his neck, but her stomach was still growling.

A horn screamed and she jerked her view back to the front. Yanking the wheel, she narrowly missed driving right into the oncoming traffic. There were more cars on the street than she remembered.

"Why don't you just magically conjure up some food?"

"I can't make things materialize!"

Ezra leaned back, hands behind his head, and legs up with his feet braced annoyingly on either side of the headrest of the driver's seat. "You made ghosts materialize."

"That's different! I work with energy and spirits. I can't just make some solid objects magically appear."

"Ah…so you really can't do anything worthwhile."

She turned into a parking lot so quickly the tires squealed. Yanking the keys out of the ignition, she whipped around in her seat. After nearly strangling herself and wrestling with the buckle, she managed to undo her seatbelt, and flung it so hard she almost cracked the window.

Quicker than the ghost could react, she curled her fingers around his throat.

"I, uh, didn't think you could do that," he rasped, eyes bulging.

She squeezed a little harder. "Still think I can't do anything worthwhile, Dobbins?"

Tongue hanging out, he tried to shake his head. "Seems a very valuable talent!" he wheezed. It wasn't fair! He didn't need to breathe. How could she choke him? He hated magic! His gaze happened to go past her, though, into the shop they had parked in front of. With the lights on and a few patrons sitting in booths, it was apparently open and serving…he strained a bit…ice cream. He felt a new panic wash over him when he spotted one of the customers sitting at the counter. The bandaged nose, black eye, and bruised cheeks were a dead give away!

"Cr-Craig!" Ezra gasped, pointing.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said condescendingly. "What was that?"

But he began to fade before he could tell her. Finally free from her stranglehold, he cackled as the old spell dragged him back to the mansion. "Ha ha! I love magic!" Glee would turn to panic however as the sight he saw before vanishing completely was Leota getting out of the car and going into the ice cream shop.

* * *

"Aha!" Destiny picked up the little red book. In the chaos of the fire, it had been knocked off the chair George had been sitting on. Thankfully, like the house, it remained whole and scorch free. Flipping through the pages, she mumbled, "Crystal ball. There's a bunch of stuff in one section here, let's see … Crystal ball, how to feng-shui with surrounding occult objects… Crystal ball, how to polish…Crystal ball, paperweight…Crystal ball, projectile…Crystal ball, sports equipment…Crystal ball, spying. Here we go!"

Everyone looked over her shoulder at the pages. "We have to put it on a hard surface," Dustin instructed. Picking up the glass sphere and ignoring George's complaints, he placed it on the seat of the chair. "Well, it's uncomfortable, anyway. And do stop rolling sir, or you'll go right over the edge."

"And then I say the spell," Destiny stated.

"Wait," Asher interjected. "When Leota'd do the séances, she would always do the weird hand things." When the others stared at him blankly, he explained, "You know!" Eyes rolled back and half lidded, he tilted his head back and waved his hands over the ball as if trying to feel for something he couldn't see.

After a few seconds of silence, Dustin spoke up. "That's the first time you've looked genuinely drunk since you died."

"I get what he's talking about." Koji skimmed the page. "But there's no mention of mystical hand waving. Maybe we should do it just to be on the safe side."

"All right," Destiny nodded. "Here it goes!" Waving a hand unsurely, she intoned.

_"Vision from beyond this wall,_

_Show me in my crystal ball._

_The one I seek who's far or near,_

_Let this vision now appear!"_

George's face went rigid, his eyes becoming nothing but white. His mouth opened, not of his own will, but as if his jaw had just suddenly gone slack. The others watched in anticipation, leaning close. From his lips, poured an all-together too feminine voice to be George's. The words had a hollow, bland sound, as if they had been played over and over and spoken by someone without much personality. His lips moved along with the words.

"I'm sorry. Your vision cannot be completed as chanted. Please clear your throat, and try again later."

His mouth snapped shut and he blinked. "Did something just happen? I think I missed it."

Destiny pretended to cough into her fist to hide her laughter. Dustin and Koji were a little less inconspicuous with their close-mouthed sputters.

"I don't get it." Destiny scanned down the page. "I said it right."

"Maybe," Dustin smiled at Little Leota. "It takes magic to do magic. Why don't you give it a try, L. L."

Wringing her small hands, she mumbled, "I've never tried any of mother's tricks before." But she stepped forward. Book clutched tightly in one hand while waving the other over the glass, she repeated the spell.

The master's face faded in and out, much like a distorting television screen. "Whoa! Hey!" Soon his visage was gone completely, replaced with an image of a room. Its floor was a checkerboard pattern of black and white tile. There was a long white counter with half a dozen red stools along it. Leota sat on one seat, happily twirling back and forth while scrapping up the remaining puddle of ice cream out of the bottom of her bowl. After licking the spoon, she tilted her head up slightly, as if looking up at the ceiling, but she was looking straight at Destiny. Then she winked and waggled her fingers. Turning back to a man behind the counter, she held up two fingers.

"She knows we're watching her," Dustin pointed out the obvious.

Leota turned back and nodded, mouthing, "Yeah."

Watching Leota eat two more scoops of ice cream, Phineas chimed in helpfully, "Could be worse."

"She's eating strawberry!" Destiny ranted, ignoring him. "I hate strawberry! How dare she put strawberry ice cream in my mouth! I bet I'll have the aftertaste when I get my body back, too."

From seemingly out of nowhere and above their heads, Ezra materialized. Unprepared for the bizarre entrance, he fell and landed on Phineas, sending both of them crashing to the ground. Ezra, however, ended up sitting comfortably upright on Phineas' stomach. "Aw, thanks for breakin' my fall, Phinny," he grinned down at him. You're a true pal."

"Ow. Don't mention it."

Ezra didn't get up. "You're kinda comfy," he said as if it were a compliment, "like a pillow!"

"Get off!"

Ezra finally jumped up and dusted himself off. Phineas glared at him reproachfully and smacked him with his hat.

"Guys," Koji interrupted loudly, nose in the spell book. He had been reading it since L. L. had finished the spell. "We have a problem."

"Yeah, we have a problem." Destiny crossed her arms over her chest. "She's binging on ice cream with my money."

"Not that."

"Oh!" Ezra hit his forehead with his palm. "I almost forgot! Our favorite stalker is there with her."

"What?" gasped Destiny. Peering closer, she could see him sitting in a booth in the corner. He was watching Leota intently. He got up and moseyed over to the bar.

Fist smacking the crystal ball, Destiny pleaded, "Leave! Don't talk to him!"

Leota glanced at Craig, then back at the others. She blew a kiss at them and then snapped her fingers. Everything became green and smoggy, with George's face reappearing.

L. L. tried saying the spell again to no avail. "She's blocked us out."

"Well," Asher tried to be cheerful, "What's the worst that could 'appen?"

Staring at him incredulously, Destiny snarled, "She's got _my body_! And—and that slime is planning God knows what!" She let Dustin pull her close into a comforting embrace. Any moment now, she'd wake up and this would be another nightmare, she told herself. But no matter how tightly she shut her eyes and opened them, everything was the same.

"We'll get through this," Dustin whispered into her ear. "I promise. At least we got the ashes." He smiled, and that always made her smile back.

"Uh, guys." Koji waved a hand to get their attention. When all eyes were on him, he cleared his throat. "I was reading about the possession spell. Something didn't seem right. When George talked about Leota taking control of him, he was still there, just riding shotgun in his mind. The same with Emily. What Leota was planning to do with Destiny was a full possession, completely taking over her body for an indefinite amount of time. She did that, but as with the other two, Destiny was still supposed to be in there with her. That's how possession works. One entity dominates over the other, but both are still there. It adds insult to injury, making the person see and feel all that the possessor is doing. Plus, it keeps the real person from making it known he, or in this case, she is possessed as long as he… or she is kept under complete control." He took a quick deep breath. "They aren't supposed to be split apart. Basically, somewhere along the way, somebody screwed something up."

"What could have done that?" Dustin asked.

Koji shrugged. "It's a sensitive process. With souls and a body merging it could just take a nudge to offset things." He grinned haughtily. "This is why the paranormal community is gonna miss me."

Chin in hand and brow furrowed, Dustin searched his memory. He blinked. "It's my fault. I grabbed Destiny right before the spell was completed. I thought if I could pull her down out of Leota's magic, it would stop it."

Koji exhaled through gritted teeth and ran his hand through his spiky black hair. "Well, we got good news and bad news. The good news is we at least have Destiny here with us. The bad news is that because body and soul were separated, we have new rules to play by. If it had gone through as Leota planned, then time wouldn't be an issue. But the body and soul can only be apart for so long before a soul won't be able to gain entrance again. The body becomes a zombie without a soul. There's no chance of that here!" he hastily added when everyone looked panicked. "With Leota's soul there, the body won't become a zombie. But Leota's becoming, like…" He struggled for a second. "Attached. If we wait too long, Destiny won't be able to get back in because her body will have accepted Leota."

"How much time do we have?" Destiny asked, her voice cracking as her throat tightened.

Koji looked at his watch. "The way this all times out…Hey, well isn't that a coincidence! Right around sunrise. We've only got a couple of hours."

Destiny tried to mask the fear in her voice. "Then we need a plan, and fast."

* * *

"I've neber seen you eab so much." Craig's attempt to sound suave through a twice broken nose was ridiculous. "Are you pregnant? Or is thib one of thobes P. M. ess things?" Shifting uncomfortably in her silence, he continued, "Whab was thad thing that gob me? Does he lub you like I do?" He lightly grabbed her arm. "I know you lub me too! I can see it in you eyes."

Leota arched an eyebrow. He didn't even notice "Destiny's" eyes were green instead of brown.

"You do lub me, right?" he pleaded.

"Meh," and a shrug was Leota's only reply and she dug into her fifth scoop. Ice cream was better than magic, better than…anything! How she had gone so long without it, she didn't know. Now she was eating cookie dough and vanilla. Next would be rocky road, then after that, butterscotch. If she didn't get sick, that is. But it wasn't eating too much that was making her stomach turn.

"What arb you doing out 'ere anyway?" he asked.

He was by far the most annoying man Leota had ever met. Asher was Prince Charming compared to this toad. Giving the spoon one last long lick, she took it and hung it on his bandaged nose. Rather than hypnotizing the waiter into believing she had paid, she went ahead and put cash on the counter. The deed would have been better had it been her own money, true, but it was the thought that counted.

She walked out and he followed her, the spoon clattering to the floor. He was right behind her as she took out the keys. Before she could unlock the door, he grabbed her thin shoulders with his large, strong hands and spun her around. Yanking her forward, he pressed his lips hard against hers. Stomach lurching, she pushed herself away.

"Why wonb you take me back?" he shouted.

She resisted the urge to kick him. No, physical pain was too good for him. Plus he'd taken so many beatings over the past few days already. If those didn't give him a clue, then yet another kick wouldn't either.

Besides, there were so many other fun options.

Taking his chin in her hands, she stared deeply into his eyes. It was hard not to cringe looking at those swollen cheeks and seeing how bloodshot his eyes were. She'd worked under worse conditions. "Look into my eyes," she intoned.

"Mmm hmm," he mumbled, still staring at an area below her neckline.

She frowned. "You're not looking into my eyes!"

"Oh, sorry." He jerked his gaze upward. Almost instantly, his irises filled with a bright green light.

"Your mind is under my control."

"My mind is under your control," he said robotically.

"You will not come near me or the mansion again."

"I will not come near you or the mansion again."

Smirking, she told him, "You are a dog."

"I am a dog."

She could have left it at that, but there was more fun to be had. "You are a miniature Chihuahua."

"I am a miniature Chihuahua."

Letting go of his chin, she watched as his eyes returned to their normal color. Exaggeratedly, she pointed at the distance, "Shoo! Scat!"

He whined, dropping to all fours.

"Get away from me, you stupid dog!" She gave him a light kick on the rear, sending him yipping and running down the sidewalk, hands and feet clumsily scrambling across the cement.

Finally left alone, she unlocked the car door and got inside. Grinning into the rearview mirror, she wondered where to go next.

* * *

A/N: Ezra and Phineas' little unPC songs parody Cher's "Gypsys, Tramps, and Thieves" and "Half Breed." No offense is meant, of course, and I apologize if anyone was offended. It's just Phinny and Ezzie's rotten, non-politically correct sense of humor, and nothing more.

The little diner called EAT and Mable both appear earlier in the story, in the chapter "Breakfast with Koji."


	43. Destiny's Plan

Forty-Two

"I bet there's some kind of tracking spell in here," suggested Phineas, snatching Leota's journal out of Koji's hands. He flipped through. "Or something to snag 'er and bring her to us."

Ezra thought on this, brows furrowed and a bulging eye squinted. "And then what do we do?"

"Whack her!" Gus gleefully cheered, picking up his chain and swinging it like a lasso.

"And after Des's brains are splattered all over the carpet, then what?" asked Asher sarcastically.

Gus pursed his lips and pressed his curled pointer finger against them in serious concentration. "Uh… We get a mop and bucket?" he ventured.

"No dark arts for you!" Koji snatched the book back. "But Phineas is on the right track. We have to bring her here. We've got the ashes. I'm not sure what we're supposed to do with them exactly…" he trailed off. "But this," he waved the tiny tome, "should have something!" He flipped through the pages, carefully scanning over the spell titles.

"But she blocked us," George spoke up. "I'm a connoisseur of the occult, you may well know," he said with a sniff and a smug tilt of his chin.

"And look where it got ya," Ezra hoarsely reminded him with a raspy chuckle.

Continuing on as if he hadn't heard the bony specter's sarcastic remark, the Master of the Manor lectured, "We can't pull her here. After all, she has a body now. If you were to drag her spirit out, you'd leave the body behind to face whatever perils came across it. Why, if she's driving, she could very well crash and we lose Destiny's body completely. Or at least horribly mutilate it beyond recognition."

"Lovely image, Grandpa," Destiny groaned half-heartedly. For most of the debate, she had been mentally drifting in and out. She knew she should be more upset, or at least, rapt in attention. However, the events of the past several days ran through her memory, jogging through logic and dashing through her imagination. The stories she had heard and the moments she had witnessed pieced together like a jigsaw puzzle. At first, things had made sense, or at least, insomuch that she hadn't felt compelled to ask a lot of questions. Now, it seemed like there had been some blank spots, some curves that didn't fit into any grooves.

As George continued his little lesson on the do's and don'ts of spiritual retrieval, her mind wandered and an idea began to form. Not bothering to wait for a proper pause in his diatribe, she interrupted him mid word. "Can't you send me after her?"

Surprised and a bit embarrassed that he hadn't thought of it first, Master Gracey stammered, "Well, yes…I think so. But what about the ashes?"

Destiny uncrossed her arms and strode to Koji. "Won't need it." Peering over his shoulder, she scanned the table of contents in the spell book. Then she reached her arms through his shoulders and turned the pages.

"Hey!" Koji cried, tossing her the tome. "You could have just asked! You have any idea how cold you are? Brr!" he shivered.

"What's the point of being a ghost if you're not going to have any fun with it?" she retorted, eyes focused intensely on the words. Another few pages were turned. "Hmm…Let's try this one." Pointing to a bold title, she handed the small volume to Little Leota.

Dustin, who, like Destiny, had been sitting quietly with his thoughts, lifted his head. "What is your plan, exactly? You haven't said." He frowned thoughtfully in concern. Worry shone in his emerald eyes, but there was a flicker of hope as well.

Destiny turned and faced him. Her deep brown eyes shimmered, as if welling with unshed tears. A lump rose in her throat and she found it hard to speak. "I'm just…Just going to talk to Leota for a bit," her voice quavered. "I have something in mind that I want to…propose." She cleared her throat and held her head high, as if daring anyone to question her.

Asher arched an eyebrow. Not intimidated by her stance, he asked, "And what does that entail?" He crossed his arms over his barrel chest. When her nostrils flared, he rolled his eyes and huffed. "Lookie poppet, this is a mad woman you're dealin' with 'ere! And even Dobbins will second me on that motion."

Ezra nodded to Asher's claim, his big head bobbing on his skinny neck like a dashboard ornament. "And I can say in full confidence that I still hate him with every fiber of my being," he added pleasantly.

"See?" the lawyer gestured. "Whotever it is you 'ave worked out in your pretty, little head better be pretty damn clever, lass." He sniffed smugly.

She flared her nostrils in a sharp huff and crossed her arms. Standing nose to nose with him, she asserted, "Trust me. After all," here she had an smug air not unlike her great-grandfather, "who coaxed Emily out of the attic?"

"Oh, we're all _real _grateful for that," Koji drawled sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "It's a miracle she's not latched onto me right now." Fearfully, he looked behind him and into the halls nearby, hoping she hadn't heard and was preparing to assault him. When nothing happened, he ventured jinxing himself and asked, "Where is she anyway? And the others?"

* * *

Leota's minions had long forgotten what exactly it was they were supposed to do. Wicked though they were, the wraiths' and ghouls' attention spans lasted less than the average gnat's. If anything within their eyesight moved or squealed, they chased after it to see if they could torture it. They were despicably nasty, but thankfully they were also incredibly stupid.

One spook, an ugly fellow with yellow teeth filled with cavities, and spider webs dangling from his nostrils like silken snot—complete with boogerish spiders--was busy breaking flower vases and urns in the conservatory. One by one, he smashed them on the edge of a long forgotten, slightly open coffin, spilling earth and ashes onto the face of a weak, protesting old ghoul.

Bony, frail hands clasped around the lid as he tried to pull it shut, the undead creature within moaned, "Stop it! Pfft!" he tried to spit out a mouthful of dirt. "Don't hurt the flowers! That vase belonged to my aunt! And those ashes _were_ my aunt! Oh please!" His wails went unheard to the cackling fiend.

"Hey!" a sharp, strong voice barked.

The wraith stopped his mischief and looked up to see Clairece the maid standing in front of him. Her jaw was gritted in anger and her eyes were narrowed. "Do you see the mess you've made?!"

He looked around at the filth with a yellow grin, pleased with himself.

"Do you know how hard it is to clean dirt out of the carpet?!"

"Uh…" Now he was starting to get a little worried.

"Have you any idea the hours…No days! No years! Decades! I have put into making this house clean?! It's hard enough with the cobwebs and dust everywhere without little cretins like you making my afterlife worse!" she screamed, enraged. "I am not a neat freak by any means," she snarled, advancing towards him. He whimpered and stumbled back. "But I do take my duties very seriously! I was entrusted with the upkeep of the mansion, and by-God, it will be up kept!

"I may get annoyed with babysitting, but nothing infuriates me more than people who clutter up the floors!"

The henchman was quivering. He flinched and covered his head as she kicked open a supply closet and took out a broom.

Feeling cocky, he slowly lowered his arms and laughed. "Wha'cha' gonna do? Sweep me? It's solid." He waved an arm through it.

"Yes." She whipped around and flung the handle down hard on the coffin lid, breaking the long stick. As the pieces clattered to the floor, she was left with a transparent, glowing broom in her hands. If the executioner could wield a ghostly axe, or the knight his transparent sword, then why couldn't the maid have an ethereal broom?

Without effort, she twirled it in front of her, spun it behind her back, threw it up in the air, caught it gracefully in one hand, and then brought it down hard on the lackey's head. WHAP!

"OW!" He rubbed his skull.

She knocked his feet out from under him then put the bristles firmly under his chin. He gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing against the tips of the brush. Through clenched teeth, she snarled, "You will sweep up this mess, including all of the dirt you spilled on Mr. Padgett," she pointed to the coffin. "And be extra gentle. His skin has a habit of peeling off." She thrust the broom into the wraith's hands.

"And you had better do a good job of it," she added. "Or I will make you sweep up again…And you won't be able to hold the handle with your _hands_…" Pleasantly, she said to the coffin ghoul, "Let me know how he does, Mr. Padgett. I'll be back to check in," and strode off.

Looking down dumbly at the stick, he mumbled, "But how else could I…" His eyes widened and he quickly set to work. Some things were better left unpondered.

Not long later, Clairece was stopped in the hallway by Bea and Emily. The young bride, with her eyes wide and occasionally twitching, looked frazzled and high-strung, but otherwise fine. Her blond hair stuck out in all directions from under her veil and her heart beat out a rapid time. Bea was in similar shape, but where Emily looked as if she'd shriek and start kicking if someone so much as tapped her, Bea was practically glowing with boundless, happy energy.

"Most of them seemed to have scattered," the Brit said by way of both greeting and updating on the crony crisis. "We have a group rounded up with Manny and Rolly patrolling, but they're not much trouble once you pound them into submission." Looking at Emily, she remarked, "I think the poor girl's gone into shock. After she ran out of things to throw, she jumped out the window and just started shrieking and flailing her arms and legs like a lunatic. Pretty bloody funny, really, especially the way those blokes ran away screaming. We should have gotten her out of the attic ages ago. She'd be a riot at parties."

Clairece gave them a smile and patted Emily on the shoulder. "Good job!"

Emily just stared ahead. "My space. My personal space. No one invades my space."

Bea giggled into her hand. "We should give her an axe. She'd run through hacking them all up!"

"Leota and her goons are bad enough," Clairece smirked. "We don't need to add another maniac to the mix." With a gentle push on Emily's shoulders, she eased the near catatonic bride forward. "Let's check to see if anyone needs our help."

* * *

Little Leota silently read over the spell Destiny had found, careful not to say the words out loud. She knew from watching her mother that rhythm was important. She had to have the enunciation and pacing just right when she was ready to recite it. Just one mispronounced syllable could mean a purple elephant made out of grape jelly falling from the sky and squashing everyone. At least, that's what she imagined would happen.

A new voice broke her concentration.

"Has anyone seen Master Gracey?" asked Clairece. Briskly she entered the hall with Emily and Bea behind her. No one needed to answer; they all turned their gazes downward. Quickly, she spotted the crystal ball lazily rolling forward and back in the slight groove of a chair.

George gave her a weary grin.

"Oh." She shook her head to shake away the shock. "Keep a stiff upper lip, sir. Chin up."

Emily perked up instantly at the sight of Koji. "Koji-bear!" Before he could run, she flung her arms around him. "Oh, I hope those annoying ghosties didn't get you!"

Frowning, but not fighting, he grumbled, "Not 'till now." It wasn't that he despised her, really. In fact, the admiration was an ego boost and much appreciated. Someone was actually impressed by his exploits! But he really rather would have it come from somebody else. Somebody a little less insane. And preferably alive.

The blonde bride either hadn't heard his comment, or didn't acknowledge it. "What happened? Why's George like that? Why is Destiny dead? Who are those nasty people fighting us?"

As George, Koji, L. L., and the hitchhikers, went into a huddle with the newcomers to exchange news, Destiny saw her opportunity. She grabbed Dustin's hand and ran, pulling him through a wall and into some dusty little bedroom she hadn't explored before. Asher gave them a momentary, solemn glance, but then turned back to the others as if nothing had happened.

* * *

"What is it? What's wrong?" Dustin asked. "You've been acting strange." He lovingly pushed a lock of her brown hair behind her ear, his long fingers stroking her cheek gently.

She looked away, but could still feel the burn of blush. Or at least she thought she did. Turning her gaze back, she clutched his hand in hers, wrapping her slender fingers around it. Tears welled in her eyes.

He wiped away a tear as it began to fall. "What is it, darling?" He cupped her cheek in his hand and she nuzzled against it and lightly kissed his palm.

Breaking her silence, she finally asked, "Do you love me?"

"Yes!" he blurted, not holding back any emotion. "With all of my heart, yes!"

He was so earnest, so sweet. Had it come from anyone else, she would have doubted. It would have felt campy and cliché. Not from him, though. Never from him.

"I love you with all of my heart, too." She leaned forward and kissed him, holding him tightly around his upper torso, her fingertips against his shoulder blades. His lips pressed hard against hers, and he embraced her firmly with his arms wrapped around her waist. She could feel his hands begin to slide up her back. Fighting against every desire building in her, she took a step back.

"Thank you." Her hands crossed over and down to his chest. "I've made my decision." She smiled.

Dustin visibly slumped a bit and his lips went slack from their pucker. "Glad to be of service," he said, with just a trace of disappointment and sarcasm in his chipper tone.

Destiny giggled and gave him another quick kiss. "I'll be back soon. Everything's going to be okay."

He took a quick step to keep up with her as she glided out. "What are you doing?"

"Just trust me." She squeezed his hand. "It'll all work out." Ignoring his worried expression, she barked, "L. L. is that spell ready?"

The tiny girl nodded, oblivious to the couple's disappearance. Or at least, acted oblivious. It was hard to tell what Little Leota noticed; or when she was merely a child, or just appeared to be a child.

Silence filled the hall as the little ghost held the book open before her. In a clear, loud voice, she recited the incantation:

"Hither, dither,

Yonder, yon.

Distance great,

A map is drawn.

Spirits, hear and be our guide,

Cross mountains and oceans wide.  
Through bright, gleaming spectral eyes,

Let us find where one belies!"

Little Leota pointed at Destiny. A greenish blue stream of magic flowed out and encircled Destiny. It sparkled and whirled, faster and faster, until all that could be seen was a sea-green blur. Then with a POP Destiny vanished.

The others stood in stunned silence.

Then Ezra spoke. "Five bucks says she's in the Bermuda Triangle."

L. L. snatched Phineas's hat and beat Ezra with it.

* * *

Blinking away the twinkling stars in her eyes, Destiny slowly took in her surroundings. It was dark, save for the dull glow of a streetlamp. Beneath her feet was pebbly gravel. It didn't crunch under her weightlessness as she walked forward. A metal, curling slide gleamed in the moonlight ahead. With their paint flaking, pale blue smiling faces leering at her, the rusty spring-bottomed wobbling horses remained erect. A teeter-totter sat with one end firmly against the ground. It was a depressing, dark playground, a place where lonely children went to waste time waiting for parents to come home. No laughter would be found here.

A slow, pained shriek made Destiny turn. She had almost missed the swing set to her left. The rusted chains let out another groan as the rubber slab seat swung forward. Pale legs stuck straight out as a familiar body leaned back. Long, thin chestnut hair sailed out behind. Then the legs curled under and the hair flew forward, floating past cheeks and nose.

Destiny walked over and took a seat beside her body. She gripped the chains tightly then pushed off of the ground. Side by side, the Destinys swung, with one fading from the effort while the other's cheeks grew flushed. Neither spoke, but both began to mutually slow until they were just swaying in their own little sphere.

Leota turned her sharp, green stare to Destiny. Her eyes seemed so foreign. They didn't belong with the brown hair, the slender face, and the long nose. They pierced with an intensity Destiny could never mimic with a million years of practice. The spirit met her gaze though, staring back with furrowed brows and pursed lips. Neither blinked.

However, it was Leota who first looked away. When she spoke, it was with the air of someone cornered, but too haughty to admit it. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. The wind is still, a sign that I would be easy to follow." She arched an eyebrow and smirked. "What are you going to do now, Ms. Chalmers?"

Destiny once again looked her in the eye. "I just want to talk."

"Hmm?" The medium pretended she wasn't surprised. "About what?"

"Why are you so angry, Leota?"

* * *

A/N: A big thank you to Werecat Boy for all of his help with editing and writing the spell. Another thanks to Jase Andrews and Lyger 0 for looking over the first part of the chapter a long while back.


	44. Leota's Legacy: New Orleans

Forty-Three

Leota swiveled her eyes to Destiny before slowly turning her head. With that impenetrable stare on her, Destiny fought the urge to lean back. Instead, she gripped the swing's chains a little tighter and sat rigidly in place. She stared back, but knew her gaze was too soft to have the same impact. Her fingers flexed around the metal links again, passing through them and jabbing into her palms. Destiny struggled to keep her eyes locked, but her vision blurred with the effort. Her throat tightened and she felt she desperately needed to breathe, but couldn't.

Finally, she shut her eyes and turned her head away, annoyed with herself.

Leota snorted and laughed. It was a startling, loud cackle that made Destiny flinch. After the crescendo, it softened to a throaty chortle. With a slender finger, the medium wiped away a tear.

"Oh, that's just adorable!" she cooed. "You are nothing else if endlessly entertaining, Dessie." Leota brushed the tear off onto the jeans she was wearing, leaving a tiny dark spot on the knee.

Destiny's oncoming anxiety attack faded. As the panic drained away, rage rose. She gritted her jaw tightly, which only made Leota giggle again. She shoved herself out of her seat and flung it back, smacking it hard against a pole. Standing in front of Leota, she grasped the swing's chains. She glared down at her and snapped, "I'm trying to help you!" Her voice wavered only a tiny bit.

Sticking out her lip in a pout, Leota cooed, "I know, Dessie." She stood up and gave her a condescending pat on the shoulder. "It's not that it isn't appreciated, my dear," she continued, walking through her. She stopped, turned, and stood with her arms crossed. "But I know it's hardly for my own benefit. It's as transparent as you are." She smirked and cupped her chin between her thumb and forefinger. "Not a bad look, I must say. I bet your little Brit brat finds it fetching."

Destiny crossed her arms and stood with her hip cocked. She ignored the last comment. "Yeah, I admit, I have my own interests in mind." She shrugged. "Why does anyone help anybody?"

"You're pretending to be callous. That's cute." Leota frowned. "It'd be more admirable if you knew what I was talking about."

Destiny huffed. "Of course I know! It doesn't take a psychic to see that I like being a ghost! That's what I came here for, to make a deal with you. I know it seems pointless, but I think we could come up with a good arrangement." She gave Leota a smug smile that was identical to George's. "I know you're curious." Tired of standing, she pulled her legs up and crossed them. With no strain or effort, she was hovering four feet above the ground, as if sitting atop a huge mound of cushions.

Now comfortable, she continued, "When we were watching you, I figured something out about you, Leota. You ditched the high heels and the dress for jeans and a sweater. You went out for ice cream. Strawberry, I might add, which is disgusting! At least get a decent flavor like mint chocolate chip!" She sniffed.

Leota sighed and sat sidesaddle on a spring-bottomed, wobbly pony. "What's your point?"

Destiny grinned. "You don't care about the powers, or making anyone suffer, or taking over the world!"

The medium's stern scowl flickered for a second. She shifted her legs then crossed her arms over her chest. "What are you going on about?"

"I call your bluff, Leota. George is already trapped. Everyone is stuck in the mansion." She furrowed her brow and lowered her voice. "There's no more revenge to be had. You just want another chance at life. Why else would you do all those mundane things? You could have raised an army of zombies or stormed the White House! Instead you come here, to this little playground, to… what, exactly?"

Leota looked down at the pieces of stone. When a nudge of her foot, she sent cement chunks tumbling. "Remember," she softly answered. She lifted her head and smiled tiredly. "We're a lot alike, Dessie. Always trying to analyze people, trying to get into their heads, seeing what makes them tick. I hardly have to read someone's mind if I just listen."

Destiny scowled, not liking the comparison at all. "I try to help people."

"So did I, for a while anyway, by telling fortunes and reading cards. All for a fee of course." She chuckled. "I helped others to see what they couldn't. I never lied about it being for a profit, though. A girl's got to make a living. And that's where I'm your moral superior."

She crossed one leg over the other. Then she put her clasped hands on the raised knee. Sitting up straight, she continued haughtily. "You only go out of your way to 'counsel' them because you want to make up for shutting out the world! When your father died, you wouldn't even speak to your own mother, even though she was suffering!" She slid off the pony and strode to Destiny. "She's cold now because of you!"

Destiny blinked away tears and stood. "I was just a child!"

"Even when you grew older, you pushed her away!"

"She made her own choices, too! You can't pin everything on me!" Tears fell but she didn't bother wiping them away.

"And what about Craig, eh?" Leota circled Destiny. "He cried and pleaded for you to come back. And you just left him!"

"He hurt me!" she screamed. She could feel her throat tighten, but she wasn't going to allow the panic to overtake her. Her hands were shaking, but she forced her breathing to stay steady. "And it wasn't the first time! I had every right to leave. He needed help, and he wouldn't get it!

That's not my fault!" She was getting dizzy trying to follow Leota. Instead of watching her anymore, she shut her eyes tightly. _Clarity. I need clarity. _Leota was in her head now, jumping through her memories, picking out weak moments and dredging up guilt. _You have no right to be in my mind! _"You're nothing but a murdering witch! Maybe we have some things in common, but I never would stoop so low and take a life!"

Leota stopped, facing her. "But you did, Dessie. You took your own life." Destiny could smell the strawberry ice cream on her breath. "You're so eager to forfeit it! Is it really for love? Or is it so you can hide from life?"

"Why do you care?" Destiny spat. She opened her eyes, releasing a downpour of tears. "You have what you want, you spoiled bitch! I never should have pitied you!"

Leota's features softened and the blaze in her eyes dulled. She took a step back. "George told me the same thing," she whispered. She stumbled and fell, landing hard on a metal carousel.

"Well…good." Destiny was slightly quieter. "You deserved worse than that." She looked down on Leota, her emotions tangling in a knot. It was as if the medium's pride had been holding her body upright. Now she sat slumped, elbows on her knees, shoulders down. She looked so pitiful Destiny was having trouble staying angry. All she had to do, though, was remember what her friends had told her, and the anger would come back.

Destiny slowly shook her head. "You have no heart. You have no love for anyone but yourself."

Leota sprang up in an instant. "That's not true! I've loved with all my heart!" In a soft voice, she added, "More than once."

"After all the lies you've told, why should I believe anything you have to say?"

Sighing, Leota looked down at the gravel. "If you won't believe what I say…" she began thoughtfully. There was only a moment's pause before she lifted her head. Her frown was replaced with a grin. "Then I'll just have to show you."

Destiny arched an eyebrow and gave her a wary glare. Leaning back just slightly, she asked, "And how do you propose we do that?"

Ignoring the question, Leota bent down and scooped up a handful of rocks and dirt. She shut her eyes tightly. Pops and crackles erupted around them as the air became more and more statically charged. A gust of wind blew Leota's hair back as she held her hands up.

"Right," muttered Destiny. "Magic. Should have figured that one out."

Leota had to shout for her chant to be heard above the fierce gale.

"Twisting time,

Now hear my rhyme:

Take me to my past.

Doorway open,

Seals are broken.

Now this spell is cast."

The gravel flew from her hands and formed an oblong ring in the air. Within the circle a bright green vortex whirled faster and faster. "Come," commanded Leota. She took a firm hold of Destiny's wrist. "Time waits for no one. Not even me."

Together they stepped forward and were pulled into the gateway.

* * *

"What're we supposed to be doin', anyway?" Asher asked crossly. "Sit here, twiddling' our thumbs?"

Dustin gave a weary shrug. "There's nothing I want more right now than to go after her, but…" He sighed. "I trust her to know what she's doing."

"Well, that and you have no idea where she is," Bea added brightly.

"Yes, that, too," he admitted. "I just wish I knew what she's thinking. I'd be much more calm if she'd shared her plan. All she said was that she'd made a decision. I'm just dreading what it might be." He started pacing back and forth anxiously.

George watched him for a while and then turned his attention to the other assembled ghosts. "Ezra, Phineas, Gus," he instructed. The three stood at attention. "Check the first floor, cellar, and graveyard to see if anyone needs help. Bea, Asher, Emily, Clairece, search the upper floors, please."

The hitchhikers saluted before flying away. George knew Phineas would especially want to find Amelia. Clairece gave a curt nod before she strode off. Asher scowled, but followed behind her.

Emily was a bit more reluctant to leave. "But what if my Kojikins _needs _me?" she bawled, her arms wrapped around his torso with the strength of a python. He could only squeak in response.

"I'm sure _Kojikins_ will be just fine!" Bea pulled her away and drug her with her.

Koji wheezed for several moments. After getting his breath back, he said, "Thanks George. But I gotta ask, why'd you send them away?"

"I think we should speak privately. There's a particularly delicate, personal issue to be dealt with regarding Mr. Dust. I would rather the others didn't hear."

"Me, sir?" Dustin stopped pacing.

"Don't play naïve, Mr. Dust. I think you have a very good idea as to what my granddaughter is up to. I'm sure we both have the same thought in mind."

Dustin collapsed onto a chair. Elbows to knees, his face fell into his palms and he groaned, "I wish I'd never told her!"

"Told her what?" Koji asked. He and Little Leota were sitting cross-legged on the floor next to George, making a semi-circle around the open spell book.

Dustin pulled his face up and rested his chin on his folded hands. "George mentioned that Leota had tempted me," he began quietly.

"Yeah?" Koji prompted.

Dustin opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it, and then exhaled quickly. "Um, well…" He ran a hand through his hair and scratched his scalp. "She had told me that if she's set free, she'll…" He stalled.

L. L. and Koji both had their eyes on him.

"She'll… bring me back to life," he finished feebly. He felt ashamed thinking back on how easily he'd almost been swayed. "Now I'm worried that Destiny is making a deal with Leota to do just that. Who knows what Leota will ask for in return?" He sprang to his feet. "I can't let her do it! We have to stop her!"

"But we don't even know if that's what Destiny's gonna do," Koji pointed out. "We could be totally wrong."

"But we don't know!" Dustin persisted. "Can't you send me to her?"

L. L. was already intoning over the crystal ball, her tiny hands hovering and swaying over the surface. A bright green light swirled in the center for several seconds before it was replaced by George's face. "That's… odd," the girl muttered. "It won't let me see Ms. Chalmers."

"Could be because she's with Leota," Koji suggested. "Remember, she blocked us out."

L. L. nodded and turned back to the glowing sphere. "I'll try the sending spell. Get ready, Mr. Dust!"

He got ready as best he could. He didn't know what that really entailed, so he just stood straight, arms at his sides, hands balled into fists, eyes shut tight, and mouth in a grimace to brace for any pain. He waited for the chant to finish, but when he neither heard nor felt anything happen, he cautiously opened one eye. Purple wallpaper with ghoulish faces looked back at him. Then he opened the other eye.

He was still in the hallway.

"Drat," he growled between clenched teeth.

Giving him a clueless shrug, L. L. apologized. "Maybe we just can't get to her right now. We can always try later."

Eyebrows creased and lips pursed, George glowered at the book, giving it the most withering glare he could. Without any limbs, he had to settle for just an angry face. What he really wanted to do was fling the book across the foyer and into the fire. "I suppose," he relented, "we just have to trust Destiny to do the right thing."

Dustin trudged over to the group and somehow, even without having any human weight, heavily dropped to the floor in defeat. He crossed his legs and sat with his chin in his hands. No one had suggested moving someplace with enough seats. Staying in the hallway, as cramped as it was, seemed to be the right thing to do. It was an unspoken agreement within the group.

"What she thinks is the best course of action might not ultimately be right," Dustin spoke softly. "She's very…" he faltered, searching his vocabulary.

"Obstinate?" George suggested.

"Pigheaded?" Koji contributed.

Dustin crossed his arms. "I was going to say determined." He smiled wryly.

"Same thing," Koji shrugged. "Just a nicer way of putting it."

George focused back on the book. "Since we have to sit around waiting anyway, let's see if we can find a way to get me out of this blasted ball."

"And," Dustin interjected, "we need to be ready for when Leota returns. I will not let the woman I love sell her soul to the Devil for anyone's sake. Not even my own."

* * *

A thin sliver of moon hung over the swamp that night. Crickets and bull frogs sang together in a choir. Humming mosquitoes joined in and fireflies danced to the tune. Bubbles popped on the surface of the water and something that just a moment ago looked like a floating log blinked slowly and sank. A school of fish took refuge by a homely dock and waited for dragonflies. Scurrying life in the grass made the cattails and tall reeds wave from side to side. It caught the attention of a glowing eyed wildcat. Owls and bats took flight, politely acknowledging one another but never stopping for small talk.

In a little shack on the bayou, a green light blazed for an instant.

Destiny stepped out of a green haze and into shadows. They were cast by the glow of a single, pitiful candlelight. The tiny flame flicked from side to side on its wick like a fish fighting to free itself from a hook. Melted down to a short stub, the candle sat in a small dish on a shabby, uneven round table. A stone under one leg helped to make it almost as even as its fellows. What looked like lumps and cuts encircling the edge of the tabletop were actually designs of vines and leaves.

The rest of her surroundings didn't take Destiny long to absorb. In one corner sat an iron stove, its belly burning a dull orange. A lone, bubbling pot on top helped cook what Destiny thought smelled like weak gumbo or watery soup. A shelf with three cracked plates, three bowls, and a pile of dull utensils was nailed up on the wall. A big basket with a pile of cut logs was nearby on the floor. Across the room from the stove and to the right of the table was a bed. It was barely bigger than a twin size and covered with a single blanket--a quilt, handmade with colorful patches that didn't even look like they should belong anywhere near each other. Despite the varying sizes, unrelated patterns, and unskilled needlework, the quilt had a kooky design all its own that made an odd sort of sense from a distance. Two pillows, one full size and the other small, were laid in front of the headboard.

Destiny hadn't even realized Leota was standing next to her until the psychic leaned down and whispered in her ear, "Mama and I slept there. Papa had a hammock outside with mosquito netting around it. You'd be surprised at all the things you can fit into one room."

On the floor by the bed was a rug, just as mismatched as the quilt. "Mama took it upon herself to sew just about everything we needed. It's all made from bits of scraps and clothes that don't fit anymore."

There was an unusual change in Leota's voice. The deep throated raspy growl was slowly being replaced by a more natural New Orleans, Cajun drawl. It was far more pleasant. Destiny wondered why she hid it. Maybe it was to fit in. Or maybe it was just being back home that brought out something that had been dormant for years.

Between the bed and the wall was an oak dresser. On one side, the initials E. and C. surrounded by a heart was carved. Leota chuckled with the dark tone Destiny was used to. "Papa was such a romantic. Too much for his own good. He actually thought love could change people…"

The door slammed open, banging into an already dented wall. A tall man with one of the most endearing smiles Destiny had ever had the privilege to see sauntered in, his muddy boots clomping loudly. His faded red trousers and dingy long sleeve shirt had splatters of dark water and muck on them. He was singing a happy ditty in French. Destiny couldn't translate it, but it sounded so jovial she couldn't help smiling. Behind him followed a puny girl singing along with him. She didn't have the dark colored skin of her father, but it was only a few shades lighter. Her mane of thick, curly, long black hair bounced with her steps. Over her shoulder she dragged a dripping net with freshly caught crabs and shrimp packed inside. Her little boots didn't quite clomp as loudly as her father's, but she tried her best.

Before she could get further into the room, her father stopped her. "Now, now, little one, let's not get your momma's pretty rugs wet, eh? She'd have my tail in a sling if they were reekin' of fish. You take off your boots and I'll go get dinner started." He took the net from her and she dropped to the floor to struggle with her shoes. When she got them off, she held up one leg and admired her big toe. She wiggled it, proud that she'd worn another hole in her sock.

"You know," Destiny turned to Leota, "you were so cute when you were little! What happened?"

Leota rolled her eyes and scoffed. "I went from 'cute' to 'beautiful.' That's what happened."

Just as Destiny had suspected, neither the girl or man noticed them. "Does this make you Scrooge and me the Ghost of Christmas Past?"

"Shh!" Leota hissed. "Just watch."

Young Leota pushed herself up and bounded over to the stove where her father stood. "Can I help, papa?" Even on her tiptoes, her nose barely reached past the stove top.

"You can help with th' shellin' later, but right now they need to cook." He used a wooden spoon to push down a crawfish and put a lid on the boiling pot. "You best get ready for your lessons. Your mama will be home any minute."

She let out a loud sigh and her little shoulders drooped. "Oh, but papa, lessons are so borin'! Can't you tell me a story 'bout pirates? Oh, and fur trappers an' Indians! And monster 'gators that eat people!" She slapped her hands together like chomping teeth and snarled.

He laughed, clucking his tongue. His dark brown eyes shone with the love he felt for his little girl. "I would've thought you'd had enough of my stories!" He picked his daughter up and carried her to the table. "Maybe after dinner, baby. You know how strict your momma is." He put her down in a chair. "Why don't you practice until she gets home? I bet you can really impress her!"

"Momma's no fun! Not like you," she moaned. She exhaled sharply, nearly blowing out the little candle. Lazily, she lifted an arm and waved her index finger. The flame followed it from side to side. When she moved her finger in a circle, it jumped up and did a loop in the air. A wide grin spread across her face and she clapped ecstatically. "Papa, did you see that? Did you see what I did? Watch!" This time she put two fingers on the table and moved them around like legs. The flame followed her movement and she led it around the table in a waltz. Her father sang and the fingers and fire danced to the tune.

Father and daughter were having so much fun they didn't heed the hissing and bubbling of the pot. Shouting an obscenity in French, he ran to the stove. Leota giggled and her fingers bowed to the flame. It bowed back and jumped up onto its wick. Then the door swung open and pounded against the wall with a deafening slam, making young Leota jump. A silhouette towered over the demure little girl as a figure emerged from outside.

Destiny could see where Leota had gotten her looks from. She was the spitting image of her mother, with minor exceptions. Leota's skin was darker, the color of caramel. Her face, too, was a little rounder than her mother's, and her body more curvy. With her sunken cheeks and dark circles around her eyes, Leota's mother was haggard and sharp. Gold bracelets, earrings, anklets, and necklaces with dangling charms jangled as she walked.

She untied her silk bandana from around her chin and shook her head, letting her curly hair tumble down. "Clement," she addressed her husband, "has Leota been studying?" There was a long drawl to the question, a terrifying tone to the most obedient of children. It was the same drawl of a teacher asking a student is he'd put a tack in her chair, and daring him to contradict her assumption. It didn't help that she had an eerie Eastern European accent that made everything she said sound ominous and exotic. There was only one acceptable answer to questions with that voice.

"Of course, Enrica! Why wouldn't she be?" Clement gave her a grin, showing off his beautiful teeth. He stirred the pot. "You shoulda seen what your baby did just a minute ago. She made the fire dance and--"

"Oh, dancing fire!" Enrica gushed, not letting him finish. She walked over to the table and bent down, putting her hands on her knees. "You know what that eez, Leota?"

Put at ease by her mother's smile, the girl brightened and ventured, "Is it good, mama? Did I do good?"

Enrica's grim smile twitched just a tiny bit. "No, swee-tee." She pushed herself up. "It wasn't good."

Leota hung her head.

"It was pathetic!" her mother spat, startling her husband and daughter. "Day, after day, after day, I've been teaching you! And this is all you have to show for it? Some stupid parlor trick?" In one fast move, she sent the table tumbling to the floor.

"Enrica!" Clement cried, running up behind her. "That's enough! She's worked hard every day for your sake!" He crouched by his daughter and held her close as she cried. "She has a gift! All you're doing is turning it sour!"

Enrica turned her blazing eyes on her husband. "No, I'm making her stronger. She's not going to be pitiful like you!" Grabbing Leota's arm, she yanked her out of Clement's grasp.

"Mama! You're hurting me!" Tears streamed down Leota's cheeks. "Stop! I want to be with papa! Leave me with papa!" Enrica's fingers only tightened when Leota, grunting and straining as hard as she could, tried to pull away.

"Your papa eez nothing more than a worm! All men are!"

In a hollow voice, Madame Leota spoke along with her mother as the scene played out before her. Destiny just watched with wide eyes, unable to speak.

"Shallow, brainless, weak worms! They toss money by the 'andful, snorting like fat pigs as their coins clatter on the table. They stare and leer and smirk, undressing you with eyes that not an hour before were gazing upon their own wives. And this is why you train, my dear. Because it doesn't take much to empty their wallets with promises of fortune and fame. You can turn them into your puppets."

"Stop it!" Clement shouted. He pointed a shaking finger at his wife. "I've spent years tryin' to thaw your frozen heart! It's still ice!" Weakly, he moaned, "Please, just give me my daughter!" He reached out a hand to Leota. "You can keep all the money for yourself. We'll leave. Just please, let me have my little girl! I can't let you poison her like this!"

Enrica held out a hand and then tightly clenched it into a fist. Clement screamed and dropped to the floor, clutching his head. His body wracked with seizures while Enrica watched. She wore no smile nor frown. She just watched him with the attitude one watches fish in a tank. "I'm teaching you and Leota a lesson, Clement," she spoke in a monotone. "See Leota? See how easily he falls. See him writhe, Leota?" He twitched and convulsed as his mouth frothed. "See how sad he is?" Clement coughed up blood. "I can teach you how to do that. I can teach you everything you need to know." She shoved Clement with her foot. "Or you can be like papa: Useless." She leaned down close to Leota's ear and spoke in a sugary voice, "Papa's useless now, isn't he Leota?"

Clement's body ceased moving.

Destiny put a trembling hand to her mouth. She didn't even try to hold back her tears. "Monster!" she choked. She whirled to face Leota. "You have magic! Save him!"

Young Leota broke free from her mother and collapsed, burying her face in her father's side. Her little shoulders shook with sobs.

"He's your father! He loved you!" Destiny screeched.

Leota stared motionless, watching this traumatic scene of her past play out once again. The life of the only one who had ever truly loved her, who was always there by her side, was just snuffed out as if he had been a miniscule insect. The medium's lips slightly parted, as if she wanted to speak, but no sound emerged from her throat. Her eyelids closed tightly as she struggled to hold back any tears that might form.

After taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling, she said, "These are but shadows of the past, Miss Chalmers. Nothing can be changed or undone."

"But…magic--" she feebly argued.

"Magic can't do everything." The world around them faded, becoming a dark blur until they stood in a void. Destiny couldn't see anything, not even her companion. Leota's echoing voice served as ample proof she was still there. "My heart grew cold that day." That cold, husky voice was back. "I trained and studied, hating my mother more and more as time passed. I wanted to be better than her."

A phantasm of Leota, several years older now, appeared next to Destiny. It made a stack of tarot cards float up and circle above her head. "I never got as good as her, though." The cards fluttered to the ground. "She broke her promise to teach me, and on my own I learned little. I worked to hone my abilities…mind reading, intuition, manipulating elements. I swore to give anything to be as powerful as her. Anything!

"In time, I completely forgot about my father. All I focused on was my hatred. I forgot what I originally hated her for. Now I despised her because she married a new man, a man who lavished her with gifts for showing him the right cards every time. The hypocrite!

"Even if she had forgotten her lesson, I hadn't. I still remembered her words when I'd forgotten the father who loved me. Now that she was married to a rich husband, she no longer worked. So I took over her business."

Now Destiny and Leota were standing on soggy grass. There was no gradual emergence into the scenery like last time. They were just there with no trace of a trail behind them. Destiny peeked over her shoulder. There was nothing behind them except for swamp. A crowd walked past and through them, making their way to booths full of fine wares, produce or jewelry. Chickens in wire cages clucked and bawked, throwing tantrums of poultry fury when one of their own was sold and taken away. In a little tent, someone put on a puppet show for a group of children while their parents shopped.

"Heh," Destiny chuckled dryly. "An old school flea market."

"Basically," Leota remarked. She purposefully led her through the throng, walking a path she knew by memory.

"A _swamp _meet." When Leota didn't respond, she persisted. "A place where you can _bayou _any knick-knack you could ever want."

Leota groaned. "God, I should have just killed you and been done with it!"

Destiny stuck out her lower lip. "Aww, you should learn how to have more pun."

Leota stopped. Destiny leaned back just in case the psychic was planning on smacking her.

They stood in front of a wooden wagon. It had multiple striped canopies waving above the flat roof . Two poles sticking out of the front with limp horse reins attached were braced on the ground. The cart had four thin, wide wheels painted red. The front two were small, and the back two were large. The paint on them had once been vibrant, but it was now dull and peeling.

Light spilled out of a small, square window on the side, slipping out between the cracks of the shutters. Under the window and along the length of the side of the wagon were detailed carvings of the phases of the moon. To the left of the window was a picture of an open palm with lines pointing to various marks. A wire with a bat, spider, and dream catcher dangled from the roof. Waving in the breeze, a flag dangled from the same pole that held the wire. Stairs, four in all, lead up to a rounded back door. Hanging from a nail on the door was a sign that read: _The Mystical Madame Leota! Fortunes Forecast! Tarot Telling!_

"You use asinine alliteration, but abhor puns?" Destiny scoffed.

"Puns would go over most of my clientele's heads." Leota gestured to the cart. "For years, I lived and worked in this wagon. I thought no space could be more cramped than that." She sneered. "Luckily George proved me wrong."

With Leota in front, they walked up the stairs and into the cart. Much like the shack, it had a small, round table, a stove, and not much else. Wires with animal bones hung from the ceiling. A short shelf of jars filled with powders, spices, and unidentifiable things floating in liquid, was crammed against one wall. There was no bed to be seen, but a cot was shoved up against a corner. The scent of incense wafted through the air.

Madame Leota sat at the table and a handsome young man was seated across from her. She clasped his dark hand and traced along his life line with her index finger. He kept grinning at her, trying not to let his brown eyes waver from her face. Most of it was hidden in the shadow of a velvet hood.

"How's it look, Ms. Leota?"

She stared pointedly down at his palm. "That's _Madame_."

His grin never faltered. "I'm sorry," he spoke genuinely. "Madame Leota."

"You will get…" She jabbed a line hard.

"Ouch!"

"Fame… annnnnd…Wealth. Ooh, and you will have three children. Two boys and a girl."

"That's a blatant lie and I know it."

Her green eyes flashed and she set her jaw in a grimace. When he did nothing but continue to smile, she allowed herself to drop her guard. She leaned back into her chair and pulled the hood away from her face. She arched an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest.

After staring at him for about a minute, she asked, "What are you?"

He took off his cap and wrung it pitifully in his hands. "I'm just a poor man down on his luck lookin' for some good news." He pouted and batted his eyes.

Her glare didn't waver.

"You're not buyin' it, huh?"

"No."

He put his cap back on. "I'm a lot like you, Madame Leota. Just in a different way. You have gifts of intuition. It's not by chance you're so good with tarot." He gestured to an upright row of tarot cards. "You can tap into people's heads. You can't dig, at least not yet. But you could tell enough to know I'm not like every man who walks in here. I know you can read palms, but you're flat out lying to me to get more money. I don't blame you!" he quickly added, hands up. "No one wants to hear bad news. But I already know I ain't long for this earth. At least, that's what I've been told."

She mulled over this. "Are you psychic?"

"In a way," he drawled. "I talk to spirits. They told me to come here to see you, and they say you have a gift, but it's being wasted here. I was also told you've got a lot of potential, but you don't know how to use it."

She furrowed her brow. "Why did they tell you this?"

It took him a moment to answer. He cocked his head to the side, as if listening to someone whisper into his ear. Then he nodded. Turning back to Leota, he said, "Because people like you can be really dangerous when their powers aren't controlled. You need schooling. And I know who can do that."

"Who?" She was leery, but had trouble masking the hope in her voice.

"Mama Mambo."

Leota's jaw dropped.

He grinned. "I take it you've heard of her."

"Heard of her?" Leota sputtered. "She's only the most famous voodoo priestess in New Orleans! How do you know her?"

He shrugged and leaned back in the chair, putting his hands behind his head. "She's my grandma, and she's willing to teach you everything you need to know. So," his eyes twinkled, "what do you say, Madame Leota? Are you ready to truly use your gifts?"

She hesitated only a moment. "Yes!"

"I knew you'd say that." He got up and shook her hand. "I'll be back later tonight to get you."

"Wait!" She stopped him before he got to her door. "I didn't get your name."

"I'm sorry. I'm Kayode Loa." Before stepping out, he quickly tipped his hat. "I'll be back soon!"

She was still standing there staring at the door after he'd left.

With a snap of Leota's fingers, everything became dark again. "And yes, I did go with him that night," she told Destiny. "In the following years, I trained with Kayode and Mama Mambo. From them I learned how to read minds and summon spirits. Kayode taught me to enjoy life and let go of my distrust and anger. Before long, I was able to hold séances and act as a medium. I'd forgotten about my hatred for my mother. All I knew then was that I was happy, successful, and in love…"

Around them, faint specters of people cheered and clapped and threw rice over the shadowy forms of Leota and Kayode. The two then danced in the center of the crowd as a band played and everyone sang. Leota's simple, white dress spun out around her as her new husband twirled her. The images faded from sight, but the sounds of cheers lingering a few moments longer.

"After we bought our own house, we soon started a family. I continued making money by holding séances. It'd become a fascination with the rich, and unlike most of the young women going door to door, I actually had talents that went beyond rigging sheets on wires or shaking rattles under a table. Kayode, too, worked with offering spiritual advice. Never once did we bring up his mention of an early death. It seemed impossible anyway. Everything was going so well. He was healthy. We were happy…" Leota's voice trembled.

Destiny's tone was soft and wary in the darkness. "What happened?"

"Hate found us…"

Stars filled the darkness around them and grass was once again under their feet. The past Leota stood in the front yard of her home, clutching a shawl tightly. A soft bang made her turn, and she saw Kayode coming down the porch to come join her.

"Careful," she spoke when he was at her side. "It took hours to get Maddy to go to sleep. Don't slam the door and wake her up!"

"Sorry." He grinned bashfully and scratched the back of his neck. "She'll be fine. Girl sleeps like the dead."

Leota shivered. "Please, don't mention work."

He put an arm around her and kissed her head. "Why'd you come out here?"

"I needed fresh air. I'm not feeling well."

He hugged her a little tighter. "Same here. I think we should go in. I got a bad feelin' in the pit of my stomach."

"You sure it's not your grandma's Cajun gumbo?" she teased.

"Oh, that's one step too far!" He tickled her sides as she squirmed and gasped for air. "No one makes fun of my grandmamma!"

She tore away from him. Breaking out into fits of giggles, she ran and he gave chase. He managed to grab hold of her shawl as she sprinted across the yard. He stopped and waved it above his head like a prize. "Lookie what I got!"

She whirled around. "You give that back!" Laughing so hard, her sides hurt, she sputtered, "I made that! It's the only good sewin' I've ever done! And I don't have the patience to do it again!"

"If you want it so badly, why don't you come and get it?"

The shawl suddenly exploded. Kayode screamed and pulled his bleeding hand to his chest. The sound of the gunshot still echoed around him.

"Kayode!" Leota screamed as she ran to him.

"I'm okay," he hissed. "Just skinned it. Get back in the house!"

"But we gotta get he—"

"Back in the house now!" Together they ran for the porch, but the sound of pounding hooves closed in.

A rough hand reached down and grabbed Leota's hair. Screaming and kicking, she was hauled up by her hair onto a lap draped in white. A covered arm wrapped around her waist. She wrenched free and turned to look in horror at beady eyes showing through holes in a white mask.

"Would you lookie what I got'chere, boys?" her captor drawled. "I do believe this is our infamous little witch! The darkie who talks to the dead! Ha ha ha!"

She leaned down and bit down hard on his arm. He screeched a curse and dropped her. Hitting the ground running, she bolted for the house. She had to get to Maddy! Had to get her to safety!

A horse reared up in front of her. "What's yer hurry?" the masked rider asked. "We ain't got ta have fun yet!"

Three Klansmen were circling Kayode, taking turns hitting him with the barrels of their rifles as he tried to duck and run away. She screamed as he took a blow to the head and fell. She tried to run, but her wrist was grabbed and she was dragged to the circle. Slapping, kicking, and biting, she tried to break free, but it was no use.

Her hair was yanked again, and her head was snapped back. Tears welled in her eyes and she silently prayed.

"I like 'em firey! I think we oughta have fun with this one. Make her tame; show her to respect her superiors!" The Klansman gave her another sharp yank, making her gag. "I cain't stand it when a woman don't show respect for a gentleman, 'specially when it's one of Satan's whores!"

Kayode spat out blood and crawled forward. He rolled under a horse and lunged up at Leota's attacker. He knocked him from his horse and they hit the dirt. With the robed terrorist under his knees, Kayode commanded, "Get inside!" Hands wrapped around each other's throats, the men wrestled, using all their strength to try to choke each other.

"I'm gonna see you fit for a noose, boy!" One of the Klan members raised his gun to take aim… Leota leapt and knocked it down and dirt and grass exploded. "Stupid bitch!" The butt of his gun caught her forehead and she fell.

Everything became hazy…

"Leota!"

Kayode's scream pierced the air. His arm went up to grab her. It all moved in slow motion…

A trigger was pulled…

A shot went off…

Red spread across the front of Kayode's shirt and he sat up for only an eternal second before he dropped.

"KAY!" Leota didn't hear her own scream; she just felt the burn in her throat after it. "Kayode!" On elbows and knees she dragged herself through the dirt to his body. Muddy and cheeks dripping with tears, she collapsed on his chest and wrapped her arms around him. "Kay!" she screamed. Face buried in his neck, she sobbed so hard she couldn't breathe. "Kay!"

Her body stiffened when she felt the shotgun barrel against the back of her head.

"I just love monkey huntin'," drawled the hooded man behind her. "It's like shootin' fish in a barrel!" He guffawed and the others around him joined in. "You know what's the most important thing 'bout huntin'?" He didn't wait for her to answer. "Destroyin' the nest!"

"NO!" A huge boot kicked her down and planted itself on her back. She writhed and bucked, flinging arms, legs, and dirt. Curses tore from her throat as blazing torches sailed through the air and landed on her roof and porch. "MADDY!" Windows shattered, sending broken glass sailing through the air like jagged snowflakes. More torches found their way inside, and the house crackled and buckled in the inferno.

A newfound strength rolled her and pushed her up and sent her legs pumping as hard as she could. She tore across the lawn and was halfway to her porch before anyone realized it. She ignored the gunshot and ignored the bullet as it burned into her leg. She kept on, limping and crying, not letting the pain stop her.

"Momma's coming! Mommy'll be there! Hold on for momma, baby! Hold on for momma!"

She dragged herself into the house, coughing and gagging in the smoke. A falling beam missed her by millimeters. Blindly, but knowing the way by heart, she staggered into the nursery. She lunged at the crib and ignored the stinging when she caught a bar across her chest. Reaching in, her hands were stopped short by plaster. "No! No! No!" She shoved bits of broken ceiling aside, hoping, praying, pleading.

Finally she reached her baby.

It lay limp in her arms, giving not so much as a cough or a twitch.

Furniture started falling through the attic floor above her. She pushed her baby to her breast and staggered for the door. Blood seeped out her leg and left a trail behind her. Dizzier by the second, she weaved, moving forward on pure shock and adrenaline. Fires licked at her, grabbing at her with their scorching tongues.

Her toes caught a fallen stool and she pitched forward. She twisted and landed on her side, her daughter still held against her safely. It didn't matter, though. Smoke filled her lungs. Her vision twisted and spun. Her leg screamed.

She curled up, sobbing with all of the breath left in her. With her last ounce of strength, she hated those men, she hated them with every bit of energy she had, she hated them more than she had ever hated her mother, and she hated them more than she hated herself for failing to save her child.

She wanted them to die. She wanted them to squirm, to scream, to bleed, to beg for mercy. She wanted them to feel the pain she felt a hundred fold!

"I can't die," she wheezed. "They must pay!"

Energy, brilliant green, engulfed her and lifted her up. It soared up and pushed away the smoke and flames. It sucked the bullet out of her leg and lifted her up to her feet. With the force of a battering ram it blew off the door.

Eyes filled with green light, hair flying, she looked like a demon as she floated out of the house and down the porch steps. The cloaked men screamed and whipped their horses, but the animals couldn't move. They were frozen in fear.

With one sweep of her hand, the Klansmen fell and the horses bolted. They stumbled and fell and tried to get away, but her magic kept them on the ground.

One arm still held the baby to her body. The other curled her fingers into claws. "Have a taste of Hell!" she screamed and energy flew out of her palm and down into the men's throats. They gagged and choked, tearing at their throats as the magic wiggled like fat snakes down their esophagus.

"Let your intestines boil and swell! Let them bubble and melt! Feel the agony I felt!"

One by one, they dropped, clutching their stomachs, vomiting bile and blood and black chunks. She walked past each one and ripped off their pointed hoods. "You weak cowards! Never dared to show your faces! I see you now! Pathetic excuses for men! Worms! Scum of the earth!"

She crouched down by one man. He couldn't keep his head steady as he quivered. His pale face contorted in pain. "Why Mr. Ramsley," she cooed. "Isn't this a pleasant surprise? I remember I gave you a reading just yesterday. I never would have thought this was the reason your life line was so short! What a co-inky-dink!" She stepped on his face, grinding in her foot. Teeth broke and tumbling down his throat, and then his jaw dislocated.

Then she made her way over to her dead husband. At once the spell on her was broken and she fell to her knees and cried. The wailing of sirens forced her to leave her baby and her husband. She laid Maddy on his chest. With a final kiss for both, she fled into the woods…

"I couldn't stay," Leota whispered, watching the trucks arrive. "So many of those men were important…A judge, policemen, tax collectors… I had to get away. I knew if I was found, they'd send a mob after me. Leaving them was the most painful thing I've… I've ev-ever done." Her legs buckled and she put her hands to her face and screamed out a body shaking sob.

Destiny got on her knees and wrapped her arms around Leota and cried with her. "I'm so sorry! Oh, god, I'm so sorry! I'm sorry!"

The two women rocked slowly back and forth in an tear filled embrace and once again, time and its shadows moved forward…

_A/N: As always, thanks to Werecat Boy for all of his help with editing._


	45. Asher's Afterlife Angst

Forty-Four

Taking little notice of a wraith that was diligently sweeping the conservatory coffin, Bea, Emily, and Asher walked down the door-lined hall. In the lead, Bea marched with wide steps and swinging arms; Emily continually twittered about her precious Koji; and Asher kept his head down and his hands jammed into his pockets. The corridor ghosts had resumed their knocking and clattering, a sure sign that at least this portion of the mansion was safe. Some of the cobwebs here and there had been disturbed and spider webs broken, but the local arachnids would take care of that.

Bea stopped in front of a suit of armor. It stood at the edge of the foggy, seemingly endless hallway that ran adjacent to them.

"A'ten HUT!" she saluted.

It saluted back.

"Seen any bad ghosties about?"

It shook its helmet.

Emily peeked over Bea's shoulder and pointed. "Oooh, what's down there? It sure is _loooooong_."

Asher snorted. "That's what she said!"

His sister quickly elbowed him. "That's all you have to say after your moodiness?"

He tugged down his jacket. "I'm not bein' moody." With a sniff he crossed his arms. "Don't know what you're bloody well talkin' about. Pfft, moody!" His lips twitched. "I'd kill for a drink right about now, though."

Bea rolled her eyes and shook her head. After a tiny pause, a smile shoved her freckles aside. "Well, Emily, we don't really know." She gasped. "What if they're more of those things?" Grabbing Asher's shirt collar, she shook him until his eyes rolled and his tongue flopped out. "What shall we ever do?!"

"We, um…" Emily tapped her fingers together. "We could, uh, go looking…"

Bea dropped her brother. "What a grand idea, Emily! Splendid! I never would have thought of it!" Taking hold of the bride's shoulders, she gently eased her forward. "Why don't you and Mr. Knight go explore, what?"

The armor bowed in a show of chivalry.

"Oh, I—I—I don't really know, Bea—"

"We were sent to check for those baddies, right?"

Emily nodded. "Right…"

"And splitting up lets us cover more ground, right?"

She pressed her blue lips tightly together. "Right."

Bea grinned. "And the sooner we look things over, the sooner you get back to Koji, right?"

Emily squealed and clapped. "Right!" She clasped the armor's arm, "Oh, let us venture forth, brave sir knight!" Giggling, she skipped ahead into the misty hall with the haunted suit trying to keep pace behind her. "I'm coming, my sweet Kojikins!"

Asher dusted his hands. "Ah-dee-yos, and good riddance." He tipped his derby in gratitude to Bea. "Always knew you were the smart one, sissy. Now if you'll excuse me…" Checking for Leota's room as he went, he continued walking, "I'm going to get my flask back. It's a family heirloom you know. Belonged to Uncle Gitsby."

She kept step beside him. "Didn't you steal it?"

"I nicked it after 'e died. Technically, that's not stealing. You can't rob the dead." He stopped in front of the boarded-up door and thrust his head in. After a quick look around, he jumped through.

"There's nothing here, save for that stupid crow."

The raven was napping on the back of the chair. At the ghost's intrusion he woke up. Red eyes narrowed, he lifted his head from under a wing and screeched.

"Bah!" Asher lifted a hand as if to smack him. "Off with ya, ya mangy cur!"

"Ash!" Bea thumped his ear. "That bird hasn't done anything to you."

"Caw!" Puffing up to twice his size, the raven beat his wings and flew through Asher's chest, then up and onto an overhanging chandelier. Dim light from its stained glass shade gave the room a soft gold and purple glow. The smoke had long ago cleared, but left the walls, bookshelf, table, and any other furniture, with a thin, greasy coating.

Near the door, Asher easily found his prize. He frowned and wiped it with his jacket. Rather than its silver sheen, he was left with more smears.

"Bah."

Bea wrote CLEAN ME on a mirror with her finger. "Any luck, Ash?"

There was no reply. With his flask held to his breast, he slowly approached the little black cauldron, still sitting in the corner. Using his free hand, he gripped the edge and peered in. All of the little trinkets he had gathered were still there. As the light exposed the contents, a glint of gold made him peer in deeper. He nudged aside the comb.

Lying at the bottom of the cauldron was the heart-shaped locket. Not even the smoke could steal its shine. He'd snatched it from a velvet box in Destiny's dresser drawer, not knowing its worth; it just _looked_ important. Women always put a high value on pretty jewelry, didn't they? With the utmost delicate care, he slipped the chain over his fingers and lifted the necklace out.

"Wha'cha got there?"

Asher spun around, his hand in a fist, the chain dangling. "Nothing, nothing!"

Before he could stuff it in his pocket, Bea lunged and snatched the locket. "When will you and Dust learn you can't keep anything from me?" She flashed a cheeky grin and looked down into her palm. Then she tilted her head slightly and furrowed her brow. "This… I've seen this." She bit her lower lip. "This is Lily's necklace."

"Lily's? No," he shook his head. "It was Destiny's. I know because I'm the one who took it." He spat it out quickly, as if the words were a grime encrusted band-aid that had been on too long and needed to be ripped off. "I took it, as well as these other things," he gestured to the cauldron. Shoulders slouched, eyes downcast, he pouted, "And as soon as word gets out, everyone is going to hate me, Bea."

"Oh." She blinked a few times. "That's why you've been so weird lately, isn't it?" She clasped the necklace tightly in thought. Any semblance of pity washed away in the next moment. Her lips twisted into a snarl and she glared at him. "You sold out your brother's girlfriend! My friend! You---you---you little…" she sputtered, walking towards him, her fist shaking.

"And my former partner's granddaughter, can't forget that," he chuckled, backing away. Hands held in front of his face, he whined, "But I said sorry!"

She stopped, nose to nose with him. "It was because you got caught wasn't it?" She went to fling the locket in rage, but stopped herself just in time and put it on the table. But she still made sure to do it rather angrily. "You're such a selfish twit!"

"No!" he scoffed. "It was because…because…" He sighed. "It was because Leota screwed me over, all right? I already went over this with Dust. No need to repeat myself."

"Yeah, but I bet he thinks you're genuinely sorry. You're just angry you didn't get what you want. That's the way you've always been, Asher."

"But it's different this time." He took her hands in his and squeezed them. "Yeah, I was angry. Even before, though, I was having second thoughts. I tried to get out of the deal, convince her to abandon the plot, but she wouldn't hear it. I should have sabotaged it, but I wanted so badly to live."

The raven dove from the chandelier and swooped low over the lawyer's head, claws outstretched. Asher ducked and the bird made a U turn for him.

"Crazy crow!" he flailed his arms at the creature.

"Caw! Caw! The coward's way!" The raven landed on the table, his feathers bristled. "He chose the coward's way!"

"Indeed," Bea drawled.

Asher pointed a shaking finger at him, jaw slack with shock. "Oh, you're taking his side?"

"You are a coward," she jabbed his thick chest. "A selfish coward!"

"If it's any consolation, dear sister," he put his hands on his hips and looked down at her, "I was used and cast aside, like—like an old toy!"

"Good! You deserved it. By all rights, Dustin should use you as a punching bag for a month. He's too nice and forgiving. Had I been in his shoes, you damn well better believe I would no longer call you 'brother.'"

"But…Uh…" Just like his words, attempts for gestures failed and his arms fell limp. He opened his mouth, and then closed it. He bit his tongue. After pursing his lips a few times, he finally mumbled, "That's…that's harsh, Bea."

"Maybe you can get at least a tiny taste of how our brother--who practically raised us, who kept you out of trouble, who's always made excuses for you—how he must feel. The one time you could thank him and you throw your gratitude in his face."

He clutched his flask in both hands, his eyes fixed on it. "I'm sorry…"

"I'm not the one you should be saying that to. You owe him far more than just an 'I'm sorry.'" Her sea-green eyes glowed with her ferocity. "You messed up royally this time, Asher."

He blinked and wondered if he was crying. The last time he could remember crying was when he was ten. His kitten had died. Dustin had taken him aside and told him that Marvin wasn't coming back. He was going to sleep "forever," Dustin had said. "Dead things don't get to 'come back.'" They'd held a funeral in the backyard and made a little burial mound out of pebbles and stones they'd found by a pond.

A teardrop of ectoplasm smeared his already blurry reflection on the flask. He rubbed the distorted image with his thumb until it became a bit more defined. "You an' Dust are all I 'ave. Without you, this place would just be a maddening limbo."

Her lips went from a frown to a flat line, but her tone had softened just barely. "You have a funny way of showing your affection."

He held his flask up to the light and studied his reflection again. _Dead things don't get to come back. _With a small smile, he nodded to the wisdom of a twelve-year-old. "Aye, but sometimes they get second chances. When that happens, they bloody well better take them."

Bea looked around. "Who are you talking to?"

He pulled his arm back, aiming for the cauldron. He stopped, however, brought the flask to his lips, popped the top, and took one final gulp. "Ah!" Then he hurled the container. It bounced on the rim three times, tumbled in, bounced up, smacked the sides, and then came to a clattering stop in the center. Pumping his fists triumphantly, he crowed, "It's good!"

Bea stood at his side. They stared at the tarnished silver for a few moments. "Is this the end of bad habits?"

Asher put an arm around Bea's waist and hugged her close. "I think so, sissy."

She put her head on his shoulder and smiled. "I give it an hour."

"You rotten runt!" he laughed, shoving down her bonnet playfully. "C'mon," he headed for the door. "There's more work to do."

Head tilting from side to side, the raven watched the siblings leave. His shining eyes focused on the locket. With three hops, he bounded over to it. Then he took it up in his beak and flew away.

* * *

"Halloo?" Emily called out, hands cupped around her mouth. Her voice echoed around her, bouncing off the darkness. One hand on a banister, the other daintily holding up the end of her dress, she descended another staircase. She didn't know how many she'd climbed. This one probably marked the end of the first dozen.

It was easy to lose count in this room. Above, below, and on either side of her were winding steps, twisting and turning in every possible direction. It was dark, save for the glowing blue hue of the flights of stairs. Occasionally, they would end at a doorway. So far all of these had led to more stairs. Going back hadn't yielded any results. She couldn't remember when she'd lost track of the knight. One moment, he had been beside her as they'd walked through the doorway, then the next he had vanished.

George certainly had a strange house. She wondered what other things she'd never seen because she'd been up in her attic.

"Hmm… Let's see… Did I go this way already?" She tapped her lip. Then she shrugged and continued on anyway. "This reminds me of something," she continued to no one in particular. "A book maybe, or a painting." She gave this heavy thought. "Oh, I know! 'The Fall of the House of Escher!' Emily dear you are too clever."

To pass the time, she had made up a little song, which she loudly sang as she skipped.

"Oh, you morphed my world, my Kojikins,

I'll chase 'till I exhaust thee.

And all I do, I do for you,

I leave my room for no one.

Waited so long,

To come so far.

Death can be so cruel,

Just as life can be so cruel.

Though I give my heart to you.

Yes I do!

Dead dance in moonlight,

Love, you see my heartbeat.

Thump, thump, thump, thump!

My, my soul mate's within you,

My soul mate's within you.

My, my soul mate's within you!"

Quick, rhythmic clanging from above interrupted her. Over her head, the suit of armor ran to catch up to her. He stopped, she stopped. She looked up, he

looked up, but they were still facing each other.

"Mr. Knight," she tilted her head to one side, almost touching ear to shoulder, "I do believe you're upside down."

He matched her pose. Then he rubbed the top of his helmet with a metal finger. With the creaking of bolts greatly in need of some oil, the armor examined his surroundings. Then he looked back at her. Somehow, in that normally expressionless visor, there was a look of horror.

Then he fell.

Emily leaned over the railing and watched him plummet. "Whoopsie."

* * *

A/N: You didn't think the M. C. Escher staircase room would come up without a _Labyrinth_ joke, did you? Apologies to David Bowie for spoofing his beautiful lyrics.


	46. Sisters

Forty-Five

The cold darkness between time surrounded Destiny and Leota. They moved forward, not really feeling it, but aware of the fragments of faded images that sped past them. Out of the corner of her eye, one would see a glimpse of a face, a section of woods, or lights. Bits of conversation flew by their ears. Sometimes there was a laugh or a scream, a name called, or an indistinguishable phrase. Even smells existed here. They were leaving behind the stench of bog and swamp, traveling through pine woods, and coming up would be the scent of chimneys and factory smokestacks.

"Leota," Destiny put her hands on the psychic's shoulders. "Maybe we should go back. I don't want—I don't have to see anymore." Her hands slid down Leota's arms and she took the other woman's hands in hers. "Please. We don't have much time, but we can work something out."

Leota stared ahead. Her lower eye lids were red and puffy from sobbing. "So much hate…" she whispered.

Giving her hands a squeeze, Destiny said, "Those were evil men."

"But I… I was full of hate."

"You had every right to be! You can't just walk away from something like that unfazed. The best thing you can do is try to move on. Try to heal."

"But Destiny, that's where I failed…"

"Hurry hurry! Step right up to see the greatest show on Earth!"

Destiny jumped at the sudden, loud interruption. "Where'd we stop?"

The smell of dung and dirt filled her nostrils. Spectators sitting in front of and to her left clapped and whistled. On her right, Leota patted her hands together with little enthusiasm. However, there was a tiny smirk on her tear-stained face. Through her transparent thighs, Destiny could see that they were sitting on long, wooden boards, wrought with knotholes, bugs, and the occasional crack. She and Leota were in the top row of the stadium-seating set up, giving them a perfect view of the trumpeting elephants down below. Grinning acrobats did handstands while riding on the beasts' backs. In the middle of the ring of marching pachyderms stood the red-coated, white pants-wearing ringmaster, calling out to his performers and the audience through a megaphone.

Sunlight fell in through an opening in the top of the red and yellow striped tent, giving the ringmaster a natural spotlight. While the audience was distracted by animals, sword swallowers, and tumblers, roustabouts set up poles, ropes, swings, and trampolines for the daring feats to come later. People were still taking seats, and Destiny had to scoot aside to avoid being sat on.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the voice from before boomed. It was the ringmaster, Sam McGinnis. "And now I bring you the goddess of the tightrope, the lovely Miss Lily!"

A spotlight traveled up to the far right corner of the tent. Lillian O' Mally, in white tights, a pink leotard and a white skirt decorated with little pink hearts, stood on a platform. When the audience cheered, she waved her pink parasol and blew kisses. Leota raised a hand and caught one, but barely closed her fingers down on her palm.

Lily lifted a foot—in a pink ballerina slipper—flexed it, then put it down on the rope. It swayed beneath her weight and the audience gasped. Then she added her other foot, held her arms out at her sides, and took several steady steps. Down below, a small band played dizzying music, capturing both the audience's excitement and what anybody must have felt from Lily's height. The acrobat then sprung, giving an artful kick of her legs. Then she balanced the parasol on her nose and, head up, walked to the center of the high wire. When the audience clapped again, Destiny joined in.

"My great-grandma really was an amazing performer, huh?"

"Oh," Leota leaned over and whispered in her ear. "You haven't seen anything yet. Watch."

Lily tossed her parasol to the ground and gestured to Sam by rolling her hand.

The ringmaster nodded back at her and put his microphone to his lips. "Good heavens, folks, you're about to see something special! You more sensitive types might want to cover your eyes."

Lily bent one knee slightly and held her arms up. A drum roll gave her a countdown. She inhaled slowly, exhaled, and crossed herself. There was a clash of cymbals. Then, with the audience "oohing" and gasping in unison, she did a headstand. As if that wasn't enough, she cart wheeled to get right side up again, then spun around and did back flips to the end of the rope.

"Wicked," Destiny breathed.

Leota grabbed Destiny's wrist and pulled her forward, dragging her through clueless spectators. "The magic doesn't want to obey. It wants me—_us_—to see all these things." She gestured down to the ring below where Sam was introducing the "Marvelous Manny O' Festin and his Bizarre Bicycle Stunts!"

After Leota finally stopped outside of the tent, Destiny said, "What was all that about? And if the magic's in charge, how are we going to get back before sunrise? I mean…" She rubbed her forehead. "Are we even moving within normal time? When we go back will it still be when we left? Or does it keep going? Or … Oh god, I'm getting a headache."

"Try not to think about it too much." Leota cast quick glances across the fairgrounds.

"Hoo boy," Destiny groaned. "'Try not to think about it too much' has been my mantra since I moved into the house. I miss the days when all I had to worry about were adjusting figures on blueprints." She let out a strange bark of a laugh. "Ghosts and investigators and loving a non-corporeal man… You know, I'm beginning to think this is all one bad fever dream."

"You babble too much, just like Lily used to." She paused and her eyes widened. "Lily… I'd hoped…" She breathed in deeply as a breeze pushed her hair against her cheeks. "No, that's definitely the direction it's taking us."

Destiny was once again quiet and solemn. "Why did you hate Grandma so much?"

Leota shook her head. "I didn't hate her! Not at first, anyway…"

Once again, they moved in time, appearing in a tent, apparently less than an hour after the performance. Standing by a full-length mirror was the past Leota, more haggard than they last saw her. Her shoulders were no longer up and proud, but hunched. The shawl over her shoulders was frayed and pale, made up of dull blues, greens, purple, and gold. Gaudy charms dangled from her wrists and ankles, and from her ears hung big hoops. Her hair was stiff and greasy. She'd dropped weight, losing some of her voluptuousness along with it.

This broken Leota wrung her hands anxiously, waiting. When the tent door fluttered open, she looked up, a wide grin on her face. "Lily, you were amazing!" She rushed forward and wrapped her arms around the acrobat.

Giggling, Lily hugged her tightly back. "Thank you, darlin'!" She bent a leg up and stuck her fingers into her slipper. "But if it wasn't for your little charm here…" Tip of her tongue sticking out, she struggled and dug her index and middle fingers in, snapping them together like alligator jaws. "Aha!" She pulled out a small, wooden triangle, painted with purple swirling symbols and held it in her open palm. "I never would have had the balance to do those flips."

Instead of taking it back, Leota closed Lily's fingers over the trinket. "Keep it. For good luck."

Lily smiled, clutched the amulet tightly, and then gave Leota another hug. "You're a real treasure, Lee-Lee! I don't know why anyone would give you up, but I'm glad they did or I wouldn't have the best friend in the whole world."

Leota tried to smile as Lily ducked behind a changing screen. Her eyes flicked up to the shadow for a second, then went back down to the dirt floor. "I think God gave me up."

Hair astray from its bun, Lily stuck her head out. "Now, don't you go saying things like that! The good Lord doesn't give up on anyone as long as they still have love and faith in their hearts." She reached for a dress hanging on a hat rack, then disappeared again.

Leota laughed. "I don't understand it, Lily. You always have a happy answer for everything."

Lily stepped into view and examined herself in front of the mirror. "Keep on the sunny side, I say. Pessimism doesn't get you far."

Leota mockingly put her hands on her hips. "You were awfully pessimistic about your skills! Otherwise, you wouldn't have asked for my help."

Lily playfully bopped Leota with her parasol. "Being optimistic doesn't mean you lie."

"You're too hard on yourself. Everyone knows you're the greatest performer in the show."

"And don't downplay yourself!" Lily waggled a finger. "You must have been the most respected fortune-teller in New Orleans with your abilities. I bet people from miles flocked to your door."

Leota only nodded half-heartedly and stared at the floor. "Not all of them were seeking my advice, though…"

Lily dropped her head to one side. "Why is it you never told me what brought you here, Lee-Lee? It's like you start to, then you get afraid. All I know is that there was a man involved," she gestured to Leota's wedding ring. The psychic gently touched the ring, and then shrank back. Lily took a step towards her. "Did he hurt you?"

Tears began to fill Leota's eyes and she shook her head. "He never—"

"He never what?"

Eyes shut tight, hands balled into fists, Leota sobbed and screamed, "I can't! I can't!"

Lily was immediately at her side. "Shh! Shh…" Using her dress, she wiped away tears. "Oh, Lee-Lee." Lily put an arm around Leota's shoulders. "You have to open up someday. You can't keep this all bottled up."

"I can't…" Leota took in gulps of air in between sobs. When she looked up at Lily's face, she simply shook her head again. "There are some things you just can't understand."

Lily rolled her eyes and huffed. "Don't take that haughty attitude with me, missy! I'm not your mesmerized clients or—or those roustabouts that are too scared to look you in the eye."

"I know." Leota clasped Lily's hand. "And you're so kind. No one else will even speak to me. You see good in everyone, even me. You're just so… So innocent! So happy! I wish I had that. And I don't want to take it from you." She let her fingers slip away. "I don't want to ruin that sunny outlook. I'd never forgive myself if I did."

"But Lee-Lee," Lily caught the falling fingers. "You're my best friend. We're…We're sisters. Circus sisters." She smiled at their intertwined digits. She liked the contrast of dark caramel and peach. It was like some kind of dessert.

Leota smiled too. "Then daddy needs to have some things 'splained to him." They both broke out into a fit of giggles.

"You know what?" Lily drew Leota up to her full height and lifted the other's woman's chin. "I'm going to get out my best jewelry, my best dresses, and we'll get all dolled up, and then we'll go out and find you a man!"

"Oh no!" Leota laughed, blushing. She turned her face away so Lily, wielding her mascara brush, couldn't get to her lashes.

"Oh yes!" The acrobat threw herself down on a stool in front of her mirror and began applying rouge. "I saw plenty of handsome boys in that crowd tonight. Maybe we'll get you a doctor. Or a lawyer! Yes, that's it. A rich lawyer boy right outta Haaa-vard!"

By now they had giggled themselves into hysterics and couldn't even get their hands steady to put on lipstick. For a moment they stopped to look at one another, but seeing the mascara running on each other's faces from the tears made them sputter and snort and laugh even harder.

"Lillian," Leota collapsed against her friend's side, gasping for air. "I don't need a man. I got you!"

The outside world decided to intrude at that moment, ripping out their piece of Heaven from underneath them. "Ms. O'Malley," Sam called. He didn't dare peek into the tent. "You have a…er… a _gentleman caller_ requestin' your audience."

The women shot each other confused glances but shrugged and got up.

"Maybe one of your Haaaaaav-vard boys," Leota whispered into her ear.

Lily snorted. "I'll take a look-see. If he's dashing, I'll ask if he has a brother, or a friend of lesser or equal dashity." She winked and exited the tent.

After a couple of minutes, Leota pulled a flap aside. Standing a couple of yards away was a man near Lily's age. He was slender, pale, and unsure of himself; she could tell by the quake in his baritone voice and the way his hands shook ever so slightly as he held out a bouquet of lilies. His bright blue eyes struggled to stay locked on Lily's, which were surely unnervingly unwavering.

Leota watched them talk and talk and talk, then laugh, and talk and talk and talk some more. Boldly--right there in front of her!--he had the audacity to put an arm around Lily's shoulders and lead her away.

And away they went. Talking and talking and talking and laughing and talking and talking and—

Leota stood in the tent, alone. And a week later, when Lily O'Malley and the dashing George Gracey married, she knew she'd been forgotten.

"And you felt abandoned," Destiny said as the images faded into the darkness.

Arms tightly wrapped around herself, Leota bobbed her head. She sniffed through tears as all of those old emotions came flooding back. She didn't glance up when she felt arms around her, instead enjoying the embrace. It was like Lily's hug.

"So when you were asked to work for George later, you started lashing out." Destiny watched more people and places blur past. "You figured, if no one's going to care, why should you?" Her own throat tightened. "And you hated them all for it, and at the same time, you wanted them to love you, to accept you. You wanted what they had."

George and Lily laughed and danced past them. Ezra and Phineas cackled at their private jokes. All of this happened with Leota standing in a dark corner, always watching but never welcomed in, never invited.

These familiar forms morphed into new, far more modern ones. Now it was Destiny's mother and step-father having drinks and laughing in the den while gangly, twelve-year-old Destiny snarled at them through braces from her seat on the stairs. "You don't even remember Dad existed. You're happy he's dead, aren't you? I hate you!"

Now they watched an older Destiny, more beautiful, but every bit as insecure as before. She sipped on punch in a corner of the office, away from the people with the noisemakers. The HAPPY NEW YEAR! banner had already fallen. Co-workers were laughing and joking. A couple had snuck off to the utility closet. Somewhere, she knew, that guy from accounting was Xeroxing his butt.

As she drank, her eyes wandered enviously to the tall, broad-shouldered, handsome man at the buffet table, the one who wasn't afraid to talk to all of the women and who shook hands with all of the men. She barely knew him; his name was Craig and that's all she had gathered, but she wished she was with him… He saw her staring, went over, and introduced himself…

Then when she got to know him, she was repulsed. She kept getting hurt. Yet she stayed, panicking at the thought of being alone, of never having love…

"We're quite a pair, aren't we?"

Destiny wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry?"

Leota chuckled. "I said, 'we're quite the pair'. I think us finding one another is no coincidence. From the time I felt your presence, Destiny, I sensed something _interesting_. It wasn't your bloodline, although that clicked the instant you set foot in the house. You do have a lot of George and Lily about you, you know." She smiled. "No, it was more than that. I sensed a twin, a kindred spirit, a soul who knew pain like my own."

Grinning, she clasped Destiny's hands. "We could be like… _sisters_," she said hopefully. "We don't need anyone else. Think of the power we could have, the _fun_ we could have. No more hurting. No more putting up with the rest of the world. It doesn't understand us, it doesn't want us. We don't need it."

Destiny gave a faint smile and chuckled. "You know, a few days ago, I might have taken you up on that offer. But now I realize, I can't keep hiding and using the past as an excuse. Just like you know you can't keep using your pain to hurt people."

Leota frowned. "I thought you understood—"

"I do." She took Leota's hand and pulled her forward into what she hoped was the future. "We both have to move on. After all, we have people waiting for us."

Dragging her feet, Leota moved ahead reluctantly. "Maybe you have your four-eyed Romeo, but what's waiting for me?"

Destiny arched an eyebrow. "A daughter, an old friend, an ex-lover, and a lot of forgiveness to ask for and give."

"No!" Leota shook her head and yanked her arm back. "They hate me. They wouldn't give me a chance!"

"I'll be there." Destiny took her hand again. "Remember, we're sisters." She chuckled and gestured to their near identical forms, the body and the soul. "We're twins."


	47. Bittersweet

Forty-Six

Koji lifted the yellowed pages with a thoughtful tenderness he wouldn't have shown a week ago. With the slightest pressure, the parchment would bend or even crack, threatening to break free and flutter loose from its binding. Had he more time, he would have liked to devote several hours to studying Leota's tome. However, saving the soul of his friend was a bit more important at the moment.

"I found the ashes spell," he said. "But no luck on getting George out."

The dead aristocrat moaned.

Dustin looked down at the crystal ball held in his hands and gave a weary smile. "Don't despair, sir. Soon we'll have you out of there, right as rain." He placed the glowing sphere on the couch in the foyer, their new base of operations. Moving there had been agreed upon as it would be the best bet for ambushing Leota. That was of course if she was coming back. Dustin tried to ignore that "if."

George sighed. "Rain: The stuff that causes devastating flash floods."

"That's the spirit. You know, back in the trenches, the lads would sing a song to keep our hopes up. Maybe I should teach it to you."

"I'd rather you didn't."

"_For queen we fight._

_With all our might,_

_And God, He gives us blessing._

_So head held high,_

_Hearts full of pride,_

_We vanquish those oppressing._

_Our guts spill out,_

_Our feet get gout,_

_But still we keep on marching…_

"Something…something… parching. That's all I can remember." Dustin shrugged and went over to the front door's peephole to look out. "Old Colonel Lynely made it up. Good rhymer, that man. Afterwards, he went stark raving bonkers and spoke only in dirty limericks. He was a favorite with the nurses in the hospital, though."

"Sounds to me like he wasn't the only one to come out unhinged," George mumbled.

Dustin looked back at the couch. "Beg pardon?"

"Oh look, L. L.'s here with the urn! Put it on the table, dear. There's a good girl."

She gave it a last push away from the edge. "Ooh, mother's heavy. Evil must be fattening."

"Here," Koji handed her the book. Pointing, he instructed, "When she comes in, read this incantation. Hopefully, it'll pull her spirit out of Destiny's body and suck her into the ashes. Then Des can jump back in."

Dustin was about to ask "Hopefully?" but refrained, choosing to stay determined and optimistic. Even if George didn't care about it, the old song had made _him_ feel better about the situation. He had a purpose now; no more waiting around and doing nothing. Being useless while the woman he loved was in danger was torment.

"Dustin," Koji gave him a pat on the shoulder. "You ready for this?"

"More ready than for anything I've ever been in my life."

Koji bobbed his head. "Good luck, buddy."

As Dustin leapt through the door, he heard George call, "Godspeed, you loony limey!"

Koji sighed and slumped back next to George. "This better work, 'cause I have no idea what we're going to do if it doesn't."

"Welcome Armageddon?"

"You're being awfully mean."

"It's cramped in here." George's head shifted. "It's making me cranky."

"Y'know, I'm starting to think this might not be a matter for magic. I mean, Leota's ball got smashed, right? That's how she got out."

George shrank away from him. "You're not suggesting…"

"Yep." He pushed himself up. "I'll go find a hammer."

"Hold on!" George tried to scoot after him. "Wait! Let's think about this. Whoa!" He rolled right to the floor. "Ow."

* * *

Dustin's plan wasn't elegant or even crafty. His goals were simply to see if he could find Leota and Destiny and, if so, lure the body stealing witch back to the mansion. Fear and hope clashed within him as images of his beloved trapped as a spirit haunted his mind. Some tiny, nasty little part of him was almost happy at the thought. Guiltily, he pushed it aside, but he couldn't help thinking of being with her forever, without any cares other than for each other, eternally dancing and—he gave a sheepish smile—_other things_ that people in love did. No work, no ex-boyfriends barging in, no outside world to intrude at all. Of course, he wouldn't have to make breakfast for her anymore, which he loved doing. He frowned.

Also, she would be leaving behind her family, her career, and all of the things she was connected to, anything that gave her passion in life.

_Dusty, you're a selfish git, _he thought, and quickened his speed.

* * *

Destiny and Leota emerged from the portal, back onto the playground pebbles. The cement pieces crunched beneath Leota's feet and she wondered if she would miss the sensation. The women watched as the vortex swirled faster, shrinking in on itself until it imploded in a flash of bright green light.

Destiny looked around and behind her. "Yeah, hopefully no one saw that."

"I wouldn't worry." Leota was already walking back to the car.

"Speaking of people seeing things…" Destiny trailed behind. "What happened to Craig?"

Leota stopped and turned. "Oh, I'm sure he's around."

In the distance there was the sound of a car horn, tires screeching, and then a dog yipping.

Soon they were on their way back to the mansion. It wasn't the smoothest ride, but given Leota's lack of driving experience as of late, Destiny couldn't complain. She was amazed Leota had made it out as far as she did without crashing into someone. Luckily the streets were almost deserted. Halloween parties had ended. Jack-O-Lanterns sat unlit on porches, their crooked smiles already beginning to sag. Animatronic ghouls no longer howled with flashing eyes. Ghostly white toilet paper waved in the air from branches, as if the night itself were declaring surrender.

The gentle quake of tires on brick made both women quiet. It would be only a couple more minutes before reaching the grounds.

Leota's lips were pressed together as tight as her white-knuckled fingers were wrapped around the steering wheel.

Destiny put a hand on Leota's wrist. "It'll be okay, I'll be there." Turning her attention back to the road, she squinted. "That looks like… It's Dustin! Leota, stop the car."

Before the vehicle had finished its brake crawl, Destiny had already flung herself out and into Dustin's embrace.

"Des!" He barely got the word out in between kisses. "I was so worried about you, love. I'd thought… Never mind what I thought! I'm just glad to see you're okay. Well, not completely okay, given your lack of body, but we'll fix that." He grinned. "I'm babbling, aren't?"

She chuckled. "Just a little." She stroked his cheek and he clasped her hand, nuzzling his cheek against her palm. After seeing what Leota had endured, she couldn't blame her for lashing out. If she lost Dustin, Destiny didn't know how she would cope.

She turned. "Leota?"

Dustin furrowed his brow. "You're with her?"

"Yeah…" Destiny beckoned the medium over. "Look, she's different now, and she can prove it." When Leota was close enough, she took her wrist and pulled her forward.

Leota shook her head. "He won't believe me."

Destiny looked pleadingly at Dustin. His brows were set in a scowl and his arms were crossed.

"I'm waiting," he said. "Against my better judgment, I'm giving you a chance, but only because Destiny has faith in you."

Leota let out a long, slow breath. She looked at the mansion, looming at the end of the driveway, then down at the body she'd gotten used to calling her own. She wiggled her fingers—Destiny's fingers—and let the green energy flow out and grow. It encircled the women, moving faster and faster, until neither could be seen. Then there was a gasp from both voices. With a whir, the magic slowed and stopped.

Destiny held up her flesh and bone hands and then glanced over her non-transparent body. "I'm alive," she grinned. She went to Leota, who was now a spirit once again. "I know how much you wanted another chance at life."

"Yes." A tear trickled down Leota's green tinted cheek. "But I knew how much you needed it, and if I had to steal that chance, then it truly wasn't mine to have."

"I can't thank you enough for this."

"I don't deserve any thanks, child." She grasped Destiny and Dustin's hands. "Come, there's a lot of work to be done."

Asher barged into the foyer. Koji was so startled, he dropped the iron poker he'd been holding right onto the crystal ball. Both he and George groaned when there wasn't so much as a crack.

"Anyone seen Dusty?" Asher whipped his head back and forth.

Koji picked up the next tool in line, a baseball bat he'd found by Destiny's bed. "He went out to find Des and Leota." He shifted his focus to George. "Okay," he stood with his legs apart, bat aimed like a golf club. "This might sting a little."

"He went out alone against that witch? That does it." He raced for the door, but before he could leave, it opened, and Destiny, Dustin, and Leota stepped in.

"Guys," Destiny put an arm around Leota's shoulder as best she could, "I know this is weird, but we need to have a little bit of a pow-wow here to discuss some things—"

"Now!" Before the command was even out of George's mouth, L. L. was already reading the spell. The urn began to glow.

"No!" Dustin sprang from his feet, landed with his arms around the girl, and together they somersaulted twice before stopping right side up with his hand over her mouth. "There's been a change of plans."

The others gawked at him until Asher snapped, "You just tackled a small child!"

Dustin winced and quickly took his palm off of her mouth. "I can explain—"

"He's under her mind control!"

"No one is under any kind of mind control," Destiny shouted. "Look, if Leota was untrustworthy, would I be here like this right now? She voluntarily gave me back my body and chose to be a ghost again. Isn't that enough to show you that she's changed?"

Leota stepped forward. "No, it's not." She smiled at Destiny. "I appreciate everything you've done for me, but I need to speak for myself now." Tears shimmered in her eyes as she picked up her daughter and hugged her close.

"The greatest wrong I ever did was pushing you aside. You were so sick when you were born that I was certain I'd lose you, just like Maddy. I was determined not to love you, but I always did. I just didn't want to admit it. You're my baby, and you always will be."

George snarled, "Which is why you killed her."

The tears poured down faster. "No. She had a fever that night. Her whole body was burning. I'd been up with her, but was so exhausted I'd dozed off. She must have been hallucinating and wandered away."

"I remember," L. L. whispered. "I kept thinking I heard you and Clairece came after me. That's when I fell in the water."

George wasn't sympathetic. "I'm sure Lily just fell in the water, too."

Leota gazed at the door to the gallery as she put L. L. back on the carpet. "That was my fault. By then, the jealousy had eaten away at me. I know that's not a good excuse, but I couldn't stop it. Everything was spiraling out of control. The party guests, the grifters, Emily, and you George… I took my hate out on everyone."

She picked up her old spell book and tossed it into the hearth. Fire appeared and rendered the pages to flecks of ashes. Once the book was destroyed, she reached into the crystal ball and tugged. Grunting and straining, she pulled George out with a pop.

He smoothed down his jacket then hesitantly held out his hand to her. "Thank you. Although it was your fault I was in there to begin with."

She shook his hand, and then to his shock gave him a hug. "I took away everything from you. I'm so sorry. I wanted your life when I had mine. You and Lily tried to give me a new start, and I threw it back in your faces." She pulled back. "You weren't the ones who took away my husband and baby, but I still lashed out at you as if you were."

He took her hands in his. "I don't know your whole story, and I can't say with all honesty some angry feelings still aren't there…" He swallowed, thinking of how to word his feelings. "However if you are serious about this change, then I am willing to give you a chance and welcome you into my home as my guest."

Tears slid past her smile. "That's all I ask." Stepping away from George, she shut her eyes and began to mouth silently.

In the yard, Lily's portrait, still resting in the grass after George had rescued it, was bathed in a golden glow. A slippered foot stretched out of it, followed by another, and then the rest of the body. As soon as Lillian Gracey was out of her prison, she ran to the house. Stopping at the open door, she breathed, "George?"

He froze, staring at her with his mouth open. He grinned and laughed as the two lovers collided in an embrace. "My Lillian," he kissed her. "My darling, darling Lily." Their tears mingled as they kissed. Holding her high, he spun around. "My perfect flower," he hugged her close. "God, how I've missed you!"

"George…" She nuzzled her cheek against his chest. "Just as handsome and flamboyant as ever," she chuckled and wiped away tears. Running her hand through his hair, she studied his face. "A couple more wrinkles than what I remember," she smirked.

"Well, excuse me for not dying in the bloom of youth." His blue eyes sparkled. "Anything else you'd like to critique while my ego's wounded?"

"Hmm… Refresh me on those lips, darling." Grabbing his shirt she pulled him in for another kiss.

Destiny smiled, but turned away so she wouldn't have to watch her great-grandparents making out. Intertwining her fingers with Dustin's, she gave him a kiss on his cheek. She didn't know if he could feel it the same way he could when she was a ghost. She hoped he could. "Thank you for coming after us."

"You're welcome, although I didn't really do anything." He nudged his arm against hers. "You're the real hero here, Destiny."

"I'm no hero," she blushed, shaking her head. "I just…talked to her and listened. Something I should have done for a few other people years ago."

"Well, it's like Asher is always telling me…" He turned to his brother. "You can't always dwell on the past and cling to it, right?" He arched a brow and smiled.

Asher smiled back. "Yeah. And while everyone's apologizing, I should say again how sorry I am for…well, pretty much everything I ever did to you after I was born. I suppose that covers it, right?"

"I suppose…" Dustin lunged, wrapped his arm under Asher's chin, and gave him a fierce noogie. "I have owed you so many of these!"

Bea appeared from behind and pounced on both of them. "Dogpile!"

Lily moved away from George and slowly approached Leota. "You let me out, didn't you?"

Leota cast her eyes downward and her shoulders slumped, looking just as she did that evening after the show so many years ago. She nodded and sniffled. "It's the least I could do. I wouldn't blame you if you never wanted to see me again. I ruined everything for you, and no amount of 'I'm sorry's' could make it up."

"Lee-Lee," Lily tilted Leota's chin up, "we were once sisters. For a man, I left my sister and didn't even give an explanation or an apology. I missed our friendship, and it's partially my fault it went sour to begin with. You needed me. Heck, we needed each other. I just didn't realize that."

"_We_ didn't realize that," Leota corrected.

"What do you say?" Lily looked hopeful. "Can we be sisters again?"

Beaming with joy, Leota threw her arms around her. "We've got a lot of catching up to do."

"Ladies," George cleared his throat. "Um, there are probably some things I need to, uh, tell Lily before you…"

"Oh yes," Lily put her arm through his and started to lead him away. "You have a lot of explainin' to do. Lee-Lee, you come, too."

Heavy clomps in the hallway signaled the arrival of the knight and Emily. They were holding hands, their arms swinging back and forth. Emily squealed. "Wow, everyone's here! Well, almost everyone. Everyone that matters, anyway… Oh, Kojikins!" She waved when she spotted him.

He groaned, but knew there was no use hiding. "Hi Emily."

She gave him a python strength hug. "I just wanted to let you know that as much as I admire you, and I really do admire you, it's just not going to work out between us. You see, I met another man and I think he's better for me." To the armor, she said, "Aren't you?" They rubbed tips of nose and visor together.

"Oh." Koji felt a smidgen disappointed for some reason. "Well, I hope it works out for you."

"Thanks! I knew you'd understand." She gave his cheek a pinch before skipping away with the knight in tow.

Destiny sidled up to him. "I see you've lost your number one fan."

"Yep," he sniffed. "I'm sure she'll get over it, though. Might take a few years. Women love the Koji."

Destiny saw Lily pick up Little Leota and tickle her. Curious about the commotion, Ezra, Phineas, and Gus showed up, (with Amelia at Phineas' side), and they bombarded Lily with hugs and questions.

Destiny allowed herself a little bit of pride. "I think we're all on our way to recovery."

A caw and fluttering of wings made everyone look up. The raven dropped Lily's necklace into the ghost's hands before perching on the mantle.

"Would you look at this," Lily gushed, admiring the locket. "Why George, it's the anniversary gift you got me." She stroked the locket. "When you gave it to me, I swore I'd never take it off."

He reached for the chain. "Shall I put it on you?"

She bit her lip in thought, then shook her head. "No, the dead haven't got any use for jewels. You can't take it with you, you know. I think our granddaughter here should keep it safe."

Words caught in Destiny's throat as Lily clasped the chain around her neck. "Welcome to the family, hon'."

"Glad to be in it, Grandma."

Leota watched the Graceys from a corner. Although she felt alone, she wasn't bitter. They needed their space. Wrapping her arms around herself, she smiled at the raven. "Ah, old friend, come to keep me company have you? Or were you sick of your perch?"

He fluttered down to the floor, landing in front of her. When his talons touched the carpet, he began to change. The feathers shrank back into his dark skin and his beak receded, becoming a pair of lips and a nose. His legs lengthened and he grew taller. Wings became arms. Trousers, shoes, and a shirt clothed his body. In seconds, standing before Leota was Kayode Loa. Their arms were around each other before either could speak.

Leota kissed him. "I thought I'd lost you forever."

"No," he smiled and shook his head. "You never lose someone as long as you love them."

"You were here this whole time?"

"I came back to watch over you. I couldn't tell you. Until you learned to let go of your anger, I had to wear those feathers."

She looked around, hoping to see her first born daughter. Wouldn't she and L. L. make the best friends! "What about Maddy?"

"She's waiting for us."

"Where?"

He pointed towards the ceiling.

A hole appeared, but not in the actual architecture. It was as if the air had ripped apart to reveal a bright portal. The white center was intense, but not blinding. No one had to shield their eyes or even squint to look at it. Around its edges were tints of gold and yellow so it shone like a star. From out of it, spindly black lines curled downward. As it got closer, it took on a more definite shape, spiraling down in two parallel lines. Below the lines appeared black steps while between them ran a pattern made up of leaves and intertwined vines. It all stopped at the floor.

Dustin put an arm around Destiny's waist. It was a sign of affection, but part of him felt like he'd be pulled away from her if he wasn't anchored. "It's a stairway."

Destiny resisted the urge to touch the wrought-iron, Gothic-Victorian spiral staircase. "Led Zeppelin was right."

Kayode gave everyone a reassuring grin. "Come on, people. Heaven's waitin'!" Holding Leota's hand he tried to pull her forward.

The medium stared up with fear. "I don't think I deserve—"

He put a finger to her lips. "If you hadn't earned it, it wouldn't be open to you."

She glanced again at the staircase and then at the knowing smile of Kayode. She clasped his hand in hers and took L. L.'s hand with the other. Together they ascended.

Ezra was more skeptical. "It's gotta be a trick."

"No," Phineas pointed. "It ain't no trick, E. Gus is already running right up."

Ezra took off after him, tripping over the first few steps. "Hey, wait for us you little freak!"

Phineas groaned. "They couldn't have an elevator?"

More ghosts poured into the room, pushing past Destiny, Dustin, and Koji as they made their way towards the light. Some were hesitant like Leota, but plowed on. Others ran as fast as they could. Some lingered until loved ones caught up to them. The band, the dancers, the revelers, the hallway haunters, and even the attic ghosts rushed past in euphoric glee.

Emily nearly knocked the air out of Destiny as she gave her a hug. "I can't thank you enough, Ms. Chalmers. If you hadn't got me out of my attic, I would have missed this." Smiling coyly at her new beau, she added, "I also wouldn't have met my knight in shining armor." She waved and blew kisses at the mortals and remaining spirits. "Goodbye everyone!"

"Well…" Asher popped up between Dustin and Destiny, putting an arm across their shoulders. "I say it's time for me to make me grand exit. Bro, sis-in-law, I'll miss you dearly. Just take care of the wine cellar, okay? Don't let that lovely liquor go to waste."

Bea shoved him aside. "Priorities, huh?" She rolled her eyes before moving her attention. "You crazy lovebirds have fun, and don't worry about us. We'll be fine." She kissed Dustin's and then Destiny's cheek. "Toodles!"

George shook Dustin's hand. "I suppose this will be farewell for a while. You have my blessings, young man."

"Thank you." Dustin's face lit up with his grin. "Thank you sir, that means the world to me."

Lily gave Destiny a hug. "Old fashioned boys, eh?" She winked. "Thank you for everything, includin' keeping an eye on my George."

"Young lady," George addressed Destiny. "Take good care of my old happy haunting grounds."

"Always." She hugged them both and they waved goodbye.

Dustin sighed as he saw them disappear. "I'm going to miss them."

"Are you sure you want to stay with me?" Destiny watched his face for any hints of unhappiness.

However, he was smiling when he answered. "My heaven is with you," he nuzzled his forehead against hers.

Koji made loud gagging noises. "I'm going to head out so you guys can do… whatever. I still need to clean out my desk and try to think of something to do with my life."

Destiny touched his arm. "Could you use some help?"

"Nah, I think I-" His eyes widened. "Oh my God!"

Two shining forms, human in shape, stood at the end of the staircase. Appearing to be made of golden light, they approached the trio. "Dustin." Their voices were neither male nor female, but an undulating mix of the two. "You must come with us."

"No," Dustin shook his head and backed away. "I'm where I want to be!"

Destiny got between the forms and Dustin. "Back off. He chose to stay with me."

Koji tried to pull her away. "Des, I don't think you want to mess with these guys. They're ang—"

They shoved Destiny and Koji aside. "What we are is not your concern." They took hold of Dustin's arms and pulled him towards the stairway. "There is a plan for him."

"I don't care about your bloody plan!" Dustin thrashed and kicked.

Destiny tried grabbing at the golden beings. "Let him go!" Her fingers passed through them, and when she went to follow them up the stairs, she just sank through to the floor. "Bring him back!"

The stairway began to vanish, the bottom steps disappearing first. Until the gateway closed, she could still hear Dustin calling her name.

"No…" She fell to her knees, sobbing. "Why? Everything was finally right."

"Somebody apparently didn't think so." Koji was happy she didn't seem to have heard him. That wasn't what she needed now. "I'm sorry." He crouched down next to her as she cried. "I'm sorry."

* * *

A/N: Thanks to WerecatBoy and Jemima947 for looking over the chapter and helping with the editing.

If you get the chance, please read my and Jemima947's collaboration Phantom Manor fic, "Fortuna Nulla Fidas Frontis."


	48. Hurry Back

Forty-Seven

Things had felt far more normal an hour and a half ago, even if Destiny had been a non-corporeal being at the time and a sad psychic had taken over her body and her home had been overrun with hundreds of ghosts. Now, sitting at the game room bar with a bottle of century-old wine being split between her and Koji, without the sounds of moans, rattling, and things breaking, the mansion didn't feel like a home anymore. It felt like just some old house, an old house that was too big and too lonely for her to live in alone. She missed Dustin…and her great-grandfather and great-grandmother… and L. L. and Bea and Ezra and Phineas and Gus and Emily. She even missed the guys who rattled the knockers in the main hallway. Mostly, she missed the spectacles-wearing driver.

Destiny took another gulp of the red wine. "I'm s'posed to go into work tomorrow. I wonder if I can get the day off for having a prolonged out of body experience. Y'know, like a sick day." Her body tilted to the left a little bit, but then she righted herself.

"At least—at least—at least _you _have a job," Koji held his glass up in front of her face. "I got nothin'!" He slammed his cup down. "I think I'm gonna—gonna—gonna go back home, see Mom an' Dad. Bet they'll all laugh at me. Their loser son. Ha!" He belched. "'Scuse me."

"It'ssszokay." She gave him a hefty pat on the shoulder, nearly shoving him face down onto the counter. "We're boof losers."

"Nah," he shook his head and almost fell off his stool. "You're not a loser, Diz-a-nee…Desk-a-nee…Dezzanee."

"Yeah I am. I'm afraid of goin' to work because I'll have ta see my boss! Ha! How—how stupid is that? I'm such a coward. I'm like that lion, you know? What—what do they got that I ain't got? Courage. I need to see the Wizard!" She laughed.

Koji stared down into the dark liquor. "Maybe the Wizard will give me a job."

She blinked, her eyelids moving out of synch. "You—you sound drunk, Kojers."

"So…" He waved around his arm and pointed his index finger in her general direction. "So do you!"

"Are not!" She pointed back at him. Then she fell on the floor and started snoring.

Koji looked down at her. "Are too." He finished off the glass. Vision unfocused, he tried to see how much they had drunk. The bottle appeared empty. That on top of being awake since yesterday morning and it was no wonder she was passed out.

With an unsteady dismount he got off his chair. Then he grabbed her wrists and dragged her out of the room, through the hall, and into her bedroom. Despite hitting a few corners along the way, she was still sleeping. He hauled her up and shoved her onto her bed. Feeling generous, he took one end of the comforter and folded it over her.

"Destiny burrito," he said. Then he staggered into the foyer where he tripped over the side of the couch, hit the cushions, and promptly fell asleep.

* * *

The "Beyond" or afterlife or Heaven or whatever it was called wasn't what Dustin had anticipated. If you weren't focused on anything, it mainly felt like peaceful cloudy space. He had a feeling he wasn't truly in Heaven, but some place on the very cusp of it, a mere room away. Purgatory, perhaps. That gave him some comfort, though. If he didn't completely cross over, perhaps there was a chance of going back. It was a hope he clung to, even though he knew it didn't make any sense. But neither did this place. It was illogical, euphorically illogical—a Wonderland without any screaming Red Queen.

Just for a second, he thought of home and he was suddenly in the garden path outside of the flat where he'd spent his childhood. There was laughter inside the house and he pushed open the creaky door and stepped inside.

At the small kitchen table sat his siblings and—tears came to his eyes—his parents.

"Dusty!" His mother was just as he remembered her: auburn hair with thin streaks of premature gray, freckled cheeks, and a body thin from almost constant movement. She hadn't aged since her death, an uncomfortable realization since they were now close to the same age.

She was crying as she hugged him and kissed his cheek. She held his face in her hands and took in every little mark and line. "It's been forever since—You've grown! My little boy is all grown up." Her voice was cut with a sob.

A chuckle caught in his throat and he wiped away a tear. "I missed you too, Mum."

"And you're still so skinny. Come on, eat, eat!" She took his hand and dragged him to the table.

Pancakes and scones with jam and tea was laid out for everyone. Bea and Asher were already eating, trying to out-shout one another between mouthfuls while their father attempted to get a whole story together from their outbursts.

"And you were just…just stuck there? For all these years? Bea, there's grape jam dangling from your chin. That's most un-ladylike." He handed his youngest a napkin.

"Dad!" She rolled her eyes. "I'm not a child anymore." She grinned when her brother sat down. "Oh, Dusty, we've been waiting for you!"

Asher leaned back and crossed his arms. "Didn't know if you'd ever figure it out."

Dustin was already buttering up some pancakes. "It just sort of occurred to me to think of this place. Everything's so strange here."

Asher took a sip of tea. "You'll get used to it. Look, I can drink again!"

Bea waved a jam coated butter knife in his face. "God help us if Heaven has Brandy."

"Is this Heaven?" Dustin took a tentative bite of his food. "I was expecting halos and harps and all that." He looked around the room. Everything was just as he remembered it. "Or are we back in London?"

"Neither, really." His father picked up empty dishes and put them in the sink. They vanished. He turned his chair around and sat down with his arms folded across the back. It was obvious their father was where Asher had gotten his darker features from. Both brothers shared their father's prominent two front teeth, though. "It's purely metaphorical."

"Metaphysical, dear," his wife spoke up.

"That too. It's a mix, I think." He scratched his cheek. "It just _looks _like the flat, but it isn't really. It's a…wotchercallit…a recreation. We've been waiting here for you. We didn't want to go any further until we had the whole family together again."

His wife put her arms around Bea and Asher's shoulders. "And now everything's as it should be, and we can all be happy."

"Speaking of family," Bea said, "what is our last name? We forgot it years ago."

"Forgot it?" Their father's eyes widened. "Good heavens! It's Desmond, a name of pride and honour! Good thing you got out of that bloody cesspit. Who knows what else you would have forgotten? Your own parents, your childhoods, first loves…"

Dustin felt a knot tighten in his stomach and he pushed his dish away. He was still missing Destiny. He loved his family dearly and this was a dream come true, but the coldness of his and the mortal's separation wasn't letting him go. It made him feel selfish and ungrateful for what he now had, but he couldn't shake away the want.

His father lit a pipe and took a couple of puffs. "What's the matter, son? Got something on your mind?"

Dustin shook his head. "It's…it's nothing. I was just thinking about someone I left behind."

Asher wagged his eyebrows. "His girlfriend, a comely little lass some century younger 'n'him. I don't know if he's robbing the cradle or she's plundering the grave." Bea swatted him with her bonnet. "Ow. Also the great-granddaughter of me former business partner." He ducked the second time.

Bea shoved her hat back down and let out a huff. "You make it sound so seedy. Oh, Mum," she clasped her hands and grinned, "they were so perfect together! Always giggling at their awkward little jokes and sharing neurosis. Not at all like the nasty trysts Ash had." She stuck out her tongue.

"Yeah," Asher smirked. "I actually got some action."

Their father slammed his hands over his ears. "Not things I want to hear about my children!"

"Dear," Dustin's mother put her hands on his shoulders, "they're not children anymore, despite what we'd like to think. I think we forgot that when we died, they continued their own lives. Why, they even had careers, didn't you?"

Asher puffed his chest out. "I was an attorney."

"How wonderful!"

Bea smiled bashfully. "I was studying medicine and physics at university."

"Good heavens, my young lady is so bright!"

Everyone turned to watched Dustin.

"Uh, I was a cabbie."

Mr. Desmond raised his pipe high. "Good for you, son!"

Their laughter was interrupted by a knock at the door. Mrs. Desmond got up to answer it. "I wonder who that could be. Maybe an uncle stopping by…"

The man who stood at the entrance was unknown to her. His clothes, a brown windbreaker and jeans, were too modern to belong to anyone from their time. He bobbed his head by way of greeting and in a New England accent said, "Good day, ma'am. May I speak with your son?"

Asher was looking confused and pointing to himself when Dustin got up from his seat. His mouth hung open as he approached the man. The bright blue eyes were unmistakably from the Gracey line, but Dustin had seen the same smile the man bore and the exact same quirk of the right brow on someone else.

"Mr. Chalmers?"

"Call me Doug. Maybe I'm old fashioned, but I thought I should meet the man who's dating my daughter."

* * *

Destiny laid face down in bed for a while after waking up. She wasn't sure how long she stayed like that, but the thought of seeing her empty home was too depressing to face with a lingering hangover. She would get used to it eventually, just like how she knew she would get used to going back to work. Life had to go on.

She pushed herself up and wiped away at least three different wet and or gross substances that had leaked from her sinus passages. Then she opened up the curtains and shielded her eyes from the afternoon light.

"I'm alive," she said to the acres of graveyard. "I'm alive."

After a shower and a change of clothes, she found out it was Sunday afternoon. Work was tomorrow morning. Her normal life was to start on Monday. _No, _she thought, _my normal life starts now._ As she combed her hair in front of the boudoir mirror, she went over normal things in her head. _My name is Destiny Chalmers. I'm thirty years old. I am an engineer. I like solving problems in an as logical way as possible. Confront and deal. I like pool because I get to use geometry. Panic solves nothing. _

The last one she repeated a few times as she left her room.

She was more amused than surprised when she found Koji on her couch. She would have been worried if he'd tried to drive home after the night they'd had. "Koj'." She gave him a nudge. "Kojer, wake up." He only snored when she gave him another shove. "We have to talk. Koji!" She gave his backside a hard pinch.

"Ow!" He sprang up, hands protectively over his southern cheeks. "Geeze, what was that for?"

"Couldn't get you up. Look, there's a lot of stuff to discuss, otherwise I would have let you sleep."

He exhaled against his palm and then sniffed. "Ugh, my mouth tastes like month old nachos."

"Okay, _queso_ boy. Why don't you go use my shower and I'll make us coffee and breakfast." She remembered the time. "Er, lunch. Blunch… Lekfast… I like lekfast."

By the time Koji had made his way to the kitchen, Destiny was filling two cups and had already put two plates down on the table. He took a seat and unapologetically tore into a ham and cheese sandwich. "I didn't hurt you when I brought you to your room, did I?"

"Oh, you did that?" She smiled. "That was chivalrous of you. I thought maybe I'd staggered in myself." She shifted against the back of her chair. "Although that rug burn on my back makes sense now."

"Yeah. Sorry about that."

She continued to smile at him and was completely sincere when she patted his hand. "You're a really good friend, Koji." She cleared her throat. "So good in fact that I was thinking about maybe… um, giving you the mansion."

"Wait!" He dropped his food. "Hold up. Why would you want to give the place to me?"

"Well," she shrugged, "you said you'd love to have a creepy old house like this."

"Yeah, _like _this house, not _this _house. Destiny, this is by all rights _your _ancestral home. It's what George would want." He frowned. "You're not thinking of suicide, are you?"

She almost choked on her coffee. "What? No!"

"Because I know that people planning on killing themselves tend to give away their stuff for no explicable reason and then people don't find out until it's too late. And your great-grandfather is a great guy and all, but 'his way' isn't necessarily—"

"I'm not killing myself, Koji," she interrupted sternly. "I just thought maybe you'd appreciate it. I don't know what I'm going to do with this place. It's huge and there are a lot of memories here."

"Good memories," he pointed out. "Continue fixing it up. You have the know-how. Anyone else would demolish it."

She nodded. "I think you're right." Her own thoughts had been along the same lines. "Mr. O'Dell and George both told me to take good care of it. I owe them that much. I owe _all_ of the souls who'd been a part of this house that much. I don't think I could live with myself if I found out someone destroyed the graves and put in a mall or giant movie theater."

He smirked. "Although we could use a good theater around here, just sayin.'"

She rolled her eyes and leaned back, still clasping her coffee. She loved how warm the mug was. "What're you going to do now, though? Are you really planning on leaving for Florida?"

He paused to think of his answer and nodded. "Yeah. I'm a laughing stock here now, Des. My career is ruined, but maybe back home I can make something of myself. Sure, I'm not as talented as my parents, but they can teach me how to use my gifts, or expand them, I don't know. I just have a feeling that I can do something important, something more worthwhile than hunting ghosts. There are a lot of souls out there that need help. Maybe I'm the guy for the job."

She blinked, feeling tears come to her eyes. "Well, whatever you do, Kojers, I want you to know that I think you're a fantastic person, and I'm proud to have you as a friend."

He smiled and for the first time Destiny saw him blush. "Ditto to you, Des."

She raised her cup. "_L'chaim_! To life."

"To life!"

* * *

Doug waited until the door was closed and he and Dustin had taken several steps away from the flat before talking. "So, what do you think of The Waiting Room? That's personally what I like to call it. It has millions of other names, though. It's a bit of a mind blower until you get used to it."

"What is it exactly?"

"The newly arrived come here. Sometimes it's stand-by, a place where souls wait if the Powers that Be need to double-check the paperwork. You can do some meditating or repenting, whatever you feel like might help before you, you know, 'meet your maker.' Others like to mingle and meet people with different ideas." He raised his hand in greeting as a couple of people in robes speaking a tongue Dustin had never heard before passed by. They smiled and made a similar gesture.

He continued. "Or, like most of the souls here, you can wait, like I'm doing."

"For what?"

"Due to the very nature of this place, it's the best spot to hang around for loved ones. It's a blank canvas, so chances are you'll spot great-aunt Gertie as soon as she hobbles in. Time doesn't work the same way it does on Earth. Days feel like minutes, so you don't feel like you've been standing around for fifty years. Then when you have everyone together, you can all continue on to…wherever you're destined."

They both walked along in silence for a minute. Then Doug cleared his throat. "Speaking of destiny, you probably know why I came by. I'm sorry to pull you from your family, but time might be an issue. With the way things work here, sometimes even if this conversation feels like a few minutes, a week's gone by on Earth. It's confusing, but I promise I'll explain everything. First though, I'd… I'd like to ask about my daughter." He touched Dustin's arm, a simple gesture with so much pleading in it.

"Anything, Mr. Cha—Doug."

"What'd she do that caught your attention?"

Dustin felt nervous and thrilled all at once. Under normal circumstances, he would be the future son-in-law bonding with the bride's father, carefully weighing what to say to gain approval. Lily was right, he was old-fashioned. "The first time I saw her she was sort of dancing and humming to herself." He left out the part about the bras. "I found it very sweet and… and attractive." That was possibly a wrong word to use in front of a father, but he plunged ahead. "To see someone moving like that instead of caring about being in perfect time or doing one of those bloody dull waltzes they had every night in the ballroom made me want to know who she was. It made me remember how much I loved dancing and jazz and… God, everything from when I lived." He let out a short, soft chuckle. "She made me feel alive again."

Doug smiled. "She can be a handful, though."

"Oh, I know!" Dustin laughed. "But that's part of why I love her. He was grinning and his tone quickened with his enthusiasm. 'She has this wonky sort of sense of humor, but it's genuine. Um… How do they phrase it now? I 'get' her, and she 'gets' me. When you get to know her, her strength shines through. Maybe she comes off as stubborn to others, but I've seen her when she's scared. She freezes. Sometimes that stubbornness is the only thing that gets her through an ordeal."

Doug shoved his hands into his pockets and gazed out into the white void distance. "She was alone for a long time."

"That wasn't your fault." Dustin put a hand on his shoulder. "And I know that's exactly what you were thinking because that's the look she gets when she talks about you. And I know the feelings you have because I've had them for ages."

Doug didn't comment. As they walked along, their surroundings began to change into a lavish, healthy garden. Trees sprouted up from the ground, growing to their full heights in seconds. Scattered bushes popped up into existence while cushiony grass filled in any spaces unclaimed by flowers, fruits, or vegetables. Flamingoes were now socializing in a pool as a peacock cut across the path ahead of the two men.

Dustin took a quick look around. "It's…nice. Your doings?"

"Yeah. I wanted to do an Aerosmith concert, but then I remembered you have to be able to hear me." He plucked fruit from a nearby branch. "Pear?"

"No, thank you, I just ate."

Doug polished it on his sleeve and took a bite. The burbling of the adjacent brook sounded suspiciously like the lead in for "Dream On." "But you're learning to let go of that guilt, aren't you?"

"I think I am, actually." Dustin plucked a rose and thought it looked like the one he'd given Destiny. "Des and I had a talk about it once. Some things are beyond our control and we have to learn to accept that. It doesn't mean we can't be sad or even angry, but at some point we have to move on." He let the flower drop into the brook and watched the ripples. "That's the fortune cookie gist of it, anyway."

Doug sat on the grass and motioned for Dustin to join him. "I wish I could have been able to hang around a bit before moving on. What I wouldn't give to tell my wife I'm okay, or to let my little girl know Daddy's still watching out for her." He wiped his wrist over his eyes. "I could see Dessie's anger and Miriam's loneliness. When you watch someone you love with all your heart crying every night and you can't so much as reach out and touch them, it's pure Hell." He had to stop for a moment when his voice started to crack. "Then when she found someone else, I was angry because I felt like I'd been replaced. It took a while, but I had to learn that she wasn't replacing me; she was living. The most selfish thing I could do was want her to be lonely."

Dustin leaned back on his elbows. He gazed up at a blue sky with clouds that suddenly appeared because he'd thought of them. "You're preparing me, aren't you?"

Doug laid back on the grass, his hands behind his head. "For a long time I only kept an eye on Dessie. A lot of souls here choose not to spy on their loved ones back on Earth. I was warned. You can't physically go there or interact, you can only see them. I was told to busy myself here, to visit dead relatives, or wait for people to arrive. But I wanted to make sure my little girl was okay."

"That would be a terrible temptation," Dustin mumbled. He wondered how he'd handle it.

"It is, but eventually I made myself back off. The only times I would peek in was when I knew Dessie was at her dance classes." He smiled at the memories. "Nothing made me happier than seeing her dance, and she looked happiest when she danced. After she couldn't pay for the classes anymore, she quit taking them. Then I think she pushed it aside completely for her studies, which God knows I'm not complaining about. The girl's brilliant and I knew she would be, but I think she misses dancing from time to time. She _needs _it. Life can't be all work."

Doug suddenly sat up and patted Dustin's leg. "Which is why I did some serious thinking and plotting." With a grunt, he pushed himself up and strode away.

Dustin furrowed his brow, confused by the abrupt change of pace. "Huh?" He got up and tried to keep up with Doug as he charged across the garden. "What do you mean?"

Doug stopped and turned to face him. "I saw you two dancing. I saw how happy she was, how much she loved you." He grabbed Dustin's shoulders and grinned as if he'd been hit with the greatest idea since the Model T.

Dustin reminded himself that he was dead and should be relatively safe, even if his pseudo father-in-law was acting like a grade-A lunatic. "Where are you going with this?"

"When all of you guys who'd been stuck in my grandfather's house started crossing over, me and my parents were the first ones there. I met and talked to my grandparents. Grandma Lily had a lot of nice things to say about you, by the way. I also talked to Leota. Now stay with me on this… I think we've found a loophole."

"A… a what?"

"A loophole. Before telling you, I wanted to meet you first. That's what dads do, right? I couldn't just let any man cheat death to be with my daughter."

Dustin's eyes widened. "Cheat death?" He gave a nervous laugh. "You mean…"

"You're going back, Mr. Desmond."

Jumping and pumping his fists, Dustin let out a mad half cackle-half whoop. "Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" He grabbed Doug and pulled him into a vertebrae cracking hug. "Oh, Dad, I love you! Can I call you Dad?" He was off again and jitterbugging, feet flinging back and forth and index fingers swinging in the air. "I'm going back!"

"Hold on there, happy feet." Doug grabbed his shirt collar and hauled him back. "This is still an 'if.' Let's go find Leota."

* * *

"As you can see in this CG rendering here," Marie Covington aimed the remote at the screen and clicked a button, prompting the Power Point slide to change, "the new Liberty Square Bridge is actually going to need two less supports than we anticipated, thanks to the calculations by our own Ms. Chalmers." She smiled in Destiny's direction, prompting several other people on the crew to swivel their chairs to face her. "Three days back and you're already making us look bad, girl!" This elicited some good natured laughter.

Destiny felt her cheeks flush and she wished she could hide under the boardroom table. "I'm sure someone else would have picked up on that…"

"Yeah, well, nobody did, so you've earned the right to gloat about it. But only 'till the end of the week. Any gloating after that and you run the risk of anonymous goons putting sticky notes with vulgar words written on them all over your cubicle. Also, possibly your chair connected to your desk via Saran Wrap." Marie checked her watch. "Oh! I should have let you guys out twenty minutes ago. Go, scat! I need my cigarette break." She waved her hands at everyone as they got their coats and briefcases and shuffled out. "I release you from the dungeon!"

Destiny stalled, fidgeting with the Velcro strap in her laptop bag until her co-workers left. Then she caught up with her supervisor and slipped into an elevator right behind her. She watched the numbers of a few floors pass before working up the nerve to speak. "Um, Ms. Covington, Marie, if I may bug you for a moment?"

They stopped at the ground floor and a dozen people spilled out into the main lobby.

"Not bugging at all, but pick up the pace."

Destiny power-walked at Marie's side as they exited the building and stepped out onto the slush covered sidewalk. "Record colds this month," the brunette's teeth chattered. She pulled her coat a little tighter around herself. She tried to cough quietly after Marie lit up her cigarette.

"Yeah," Marie took a drag. "Used to love it as a kid. Don't know what the hell was wrong with me. Anyway," she tapped off some ashes, "what do you need to talk about?"

Destiny shrugged her laptop bag a little higher up on her shoulder. "I wanted to thank you for all of your encouragement the past couple of days and for not talking about, you know, that whole mess on T. V." She winced at the memory of Craig attempting to propose to her in front of the cameras.

"Look, with Boss Man recuperating, I'm in charge, which means it's my job to make Frees Construction Company look good. If I don't, I look bad. As far as I'm concerned, employees getting hassled for something that wasn't their fault isn't 'good.' Bad press is the last thing we need after that stunt Craig pulled. Not that you're looking any better either, I might add. It's almost fifty-fifty between you being an Ice Queen or him being a stalker. I know the truth, you know the truth."

_Oh, you don't know the half of it,_ Destiny thought, but kept her mouth shut.

"But I'm not going to say anything bad about the C. E. O. while he's laid up in the hospital, and neither should you," she pointed at Destiny with her cigarette. "The best thing we can all do is keep quiet about it until it all dies down. And if someone isn't keeping quiet, you let me know right away and I'll straighten him or her out. It won't do to have one of our brightest uncomfortable at work, not with a half dozen projects due by next February." She coughed and took another drag.

"So… it's all business?" Destiny raised an eyebrow and quirked her lips up in a smirk, looking just like George. "None of this niceness has to do with any feelings of remorse or guilt concerning a certain affair…?"

Marie smiled and held up her index finger and thumb about half an inch apart in front of her face. One eye shut and the other squinted, she said, "Just a little. But don't tell anyone, I have a reputation to uphold. Queen Almighty Mega Bitch is a title I intend to keep. I'm having it engraved on my headstone." She snubbed out her cigarette in an ashtray and tossed it into a trash can. "Anyway, I'm going to pay Craigy-Poo my daily visit. Want to ride with? I'd understand if you don't want to, but from a business standpoint, it might help smooth things out. And if it doesn't, well, there's always a restraining order," she joked.

"A-heh." Destiny had actually been seriously considering that. At the mere mention of seeing him again, her throat tightened and her heart started to pound. What would she even say to the man who had tried to trick her into marriage, and, far worse, had tried to burn down her home? How do you even approach a person with that mindset and try not to rip him apart, let alone be civil?

She took a deep breath and then let it out. "Sure. What's he in the hospital for anyway? No one seems to have the whole story." She followed Marie to the parking garage and joined her in her Prius.

"From what I can tell, early morning after Halloween, he ran into a street and was hit by a car." She shrugged. "No one knows why and he's barely saying a word. Sometimes he says your name and then moans about Chihuahuas."

Destiny grimaced. On the way, she didn't speak, but could hear the sounds of tires screeching over and over in her mind.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite ladies!"

Destiny almost dropped the fruit bouquet they'd picked up. Craig was sitting up in his hospital bed, his right arm in a cast, and the same side leg propped up on pillows. His robe was partially open, revealing bandages covering his ribs. His cheek sported some stitches. There were still a few bandages on his nose.

"Ms. Covington, Ms. Chalmers, good to see you. Are those flowers made of cantaloupe?"

"And honeydew." Destiny couldn't take her eyes off him as she pushed the fruit basket onto his bedside table. She was torn between feelings of guilt and victory. "I didn't think you'd be so… coherent."

"I'm doing a lot better today. Even the Morphine is lower." He reached over and tugged out a strawberry rose stuffed with marshmallow. He couldn't quite open his mouth all the way and he had to chew slowly. "Didn't think I'd see you here, Destiny."

"Thought it would be, you know, the right thing to do."

There was silence for a minute as Craig stared ahead of him, apparently digesting more than fruit.

It came to an end when the generic trilling of a cell phone prompted Marie to go through her purse. "It's that guy from human resources," she said after a glance at the screen. "I need to take this. Try the chocolate covered raisins." Then she went out into the hall, leaving Destiny glancing from Craig to the door for a couple of seconds.

"Come sit over here," he patted a chair by the bed. "You act like I'm going to bite you. I can barely eat the hospital Jell-O."

She glowered at him as she took the seat. "You tried to burn my house down with me in it. Lack of proof is the only reason I haven't called the cops."

His eyebrows shot up. "What?"

"Halloween night," she pointed at him. "You lit it and then took off! I was locked in my bedroom!"

"Why were you locked in your room?"

"It doesn't matter! You almost killed me!"

He shook his head, and then winced at the pain it caused. "I would never, ever hurt you like that, and you know it. I admit a lot of that night is pretty hazy, but that is one thing I did not do!"

"Yeah," she rolled her eyes. "You just happened to be running away right as my roof was going up in flames?"

"I never saw the fire!" His face went blank for a moment. "Unless… Oh, I know what happened." He groaned and laid back against the mattress. "It was those kids."

"What kids?" She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Two boys, a…a zombie and a… I think he was a hobo? It'd gone quiet, and there weren't any more trick-or-treaters. I was waiting for a chance to come talk to you, so I parked nearby and walked up to the house. I waited by the porch so no one would see me and recognize me."

"We all know how much you hate to be noticed."

He ignored her. "The boys had stopped by earlier, but ran off for some reason, like they were scared. Later they came back. I was busy thinking of what to say, because I was angry and confused. Mainly because you'd rejected me again and because someone punched me in the face on live T. V." With a sneer, he pointed to his nose. "Anyway, I saw them messing around by the bushes. Looking back, I think they were lighting cherry bombs or something like that. They had matches and I saw some sparks, so I chased them off." He put his left hand over his face and rubbed his temples. "God, I had no idea that started a fire, Des. You know I wouldn't have left you like that."

"Well, with the way you'd been acting-"

"Look," he sat up, "there are a lot of 'A' words that describe me. Arrogant, yes. Asshole, I'll admit to that. Arsonist? Not even close." He shifted uncomfortably. "Then that see-through guy with the glasses attacked me. I finally get rabid Bill Gates off my case, and I go back to my car to see that those punks egged it. So I went to the ice cream shop to think things over and cool off. Things are foggy after that. I woke up in the hospital the next day."

"Wow." Destiny absorbed his story, ran it through her mind a couple of times, and tried to find holes. She had to admit, it did seem too far out of character for him to do such a thing. He'd never been physically violent with her. Was he a committer of sexual harassment? That was a hardy "Yes." Definitely the type to sneak a hand on the waist or a dirty joke, but going all out psycho was a bit of a stretch. "I'm sorry. I mean that honestly. Though, you did basically stalk me and try to force me to marry you, I have to say."

He smiled as best he could with the stitches. "Not exactly stalking." He sighed and adjusted the bed so the head came up higher. "It's so hard to get any rest. I'm up too long it hurts; I'm down too long it hurts."

"Maybe not the usual textbook example of stalking." She leaned forward and shifted his pillow to better support his head. "Seeing me on the news and then rushing over has to be in the same category."

"Thanks. Yeah, that was stupid of me," he frowned. "I've done a lot of stupid things." He took her hand. "Destiny, I'm sorry I hurt you. "

She smiled and patted his hand. "I forgive you. I'm sorry I broke your nose and shoved a tampon up your nostril."

"It's okay. Maybe I deserved that."

She checked his medicine bottle. "They do have you on a lot of Morphine. No wonder you're being so sweet."

He laughed. "No, I mean it. I've been doing a lot of thinking since I woke up. I had a near death experience during surgery that changed everything."

A grin began to form, but she stopped it and cleared her throat. "Really?" She hid a chuckle behind a cough

He pouted, "Don't laugh at me, I'm serious. I saw me on the table and I was floating up. Then there was this light and I went towards it. A woman appeared, pretty, with dark, long curly hair. Had a slight accent, like she was from Louisiana. Bright green eyes…"

Destiny pressed her lips tightly together and didn't say a word.

"She told me that we weren't meant to be, and that if I kept bothering you she'd have me reincarnated as a Chihuahua in my next life."

"Huh." _Let no one doubt the goodness of Leota, _she thought with a smile. "I'd have to agree with her. About the not meant to be part, I mean. I rushed in and you… " She exhaled. "God knows why you liked me. I get on my own nerves."

He gave a one shoulder shrug. "I think I sensed you had high standards, and I wanted to be like that. I wanted to be more like you, but in my own mind that translated into me having you. Does that make sense?"

She tilted her head and thought about it. "Kind of."

He held up a magazine that was on the bedside table. "All they have for me to read is old _Cosmos_. I've been doing a lot of soul searching using them. Also, I'm apparently an 8.5 according to July's 'Stud-O-Meter' quiz. Something to keep in mind." He winked.

She laughed. "You're such a narcissist."

"Very true. So…" He picked lint off of a rib bandage. "It's never going to happen between us, is it?"

"No," she said slowly, careful to be sensitive as she thought out her response. "But that's not a bad thing. Some people just shouldn't be together. Us, we clash too much. Not a good personality match there."

"I guess so."

Marie's heels clicked on the tile as she came back down the hall and entered the room. "No one's tried to kill anyone, have they? The company's medical insurance will only cover so much."

"Nah," Destiny gave her a genuine smile. "We're being civil."

"Good."

Craig chuckled. "You're harsh, Marie. Maybe I should just retire to the Bahamas and leave you in charge."

She sniffed. "I would hunt you down and gut you like a fish if you did that. Those people drive me insane, and being the boss gives me fewer chances to sneak out for a smoke. You will be coming back, mister," she waved a finger at him.

"Fine, if you say so." Craig grabbed his medicine bottle and a glass of water. "If you ladies don't mind, I think I need to get some rest. This was a big day for me."

"No prob." Destiny lingered to make sure he was able to take his pills and set his water back on the table. "I hope you feel better soon."

"I'm on my way to recovery." He laid back and closed his eyes. When he heard the sound of heels getting fainter, he opened one eye to make sure Destiny was the only one still in the room. "Ms. Chalmers?"

"Yes?" She stopped in the doorway.

"Tell your boyfriend I said he throws a hell of a punch. For a scrawny guy."

She grinned. "He's a pretty amazing man." On the way out of the hospital, she couldn't help but feel a sting of pain thinking about Dustin and how much she missed him.

Before Marie dropped Destiny off at Frees Construction, she made an offer that surprised her. "The other girls and I were thinking of going out this weekend. Maybe check out a couple of bars and some new shops, or catch a flick. Would you like to come along?"

"Oh, um…" Destiny leaned into the rolled down window. "I'd really like to," she said apologetically, "but I'm throwing a going-away party for a friend of mine on Friday, and I invited my Mom and step-Dad to come over on Saturday to spend the rest of the weekend with me. Maybe next time?"

"Sure, kiddo. I'll keep you updated. Take care!"

Destiny waved as Marie drove off. She was dreading saying goodbye to Koji, but at least some other areas of her life were looking up. Overall, she had to admit as she went back to her car, it was a good day.

* * *

Madame Leota raised her arms high, her bracelets jangling. Her eyes shut, she intoned, "Before I can step into the last stage of my afterlife, I must complete this unfinished business so my soul may finally find true inner peace."

In a bassinet next to her, Maddy giggled. L. L. put her finger to her lips. "Shh, Mother's working," the elder sister said and rocked the basket.

Leota, her daughters, Kayode, Dustin, his family, and Doug were sitting in a more cheerful version of Leota's parlor. Instead of sitting at a table in front of a crystal ball, they sat in a circle on cushions. A lamp and several candles lit the room. The tapestries that hung on the walls around them were colored in pastels, and instead of being adorned with demons and monsters, they now had happy clowns and cuddly animals on them. The chamber doubled as a nursery, after all. However, everyone agreed the clowns were more frightening than the original basilisks and dragons. The toy box in the corner didn't add to the mysterious ambience, but the girls were quite happy with it. It was a nice recreation, even if it looked a little less threatening.

Sunlight was hurled into the room, making everyone blink and shield their eyes. "Did we miss it?" Lily strode in holding George's hand. "I didn't want Dustin to go without saying good-bye."

"No, but you wrecked my concentration." Leota folded her arms, but her scowl was playful. "Everything has to be as sincere as possible."

Lily sat on her knees on the carpet. After, she made sure to smooth down her skirt to a modest length. "Oh, Dustin darlin', we're going to miss you."

George was more skeptical. "We still don't know if this will work. Just because Leota makes the _claim _she has to keep a promise, doesn't mean—"

On either side of him, Lily and Bea slapped their hands over his mouth.

Leota narrowed her eyes at Gracey. "Thank you. Indeed, I do have unfinished business. I told Dustin that if I was set free, I'd bring him back to life. Now I am free, and that means I must fulfill my promise. If I don't my soul surely can't rest." She said all of this matter-of-factly with a straight face. She didn't know if it was the second or third time she'd repeated it out loud, but she would say it as many times as she needed to for the "Powers that Be" to grasp the concept. It was a long shot, she knew, but if there was any chance, just a tiny scrap of it, she'd snatch it and see to it that it panned out. She wanted it to work, almost as much as Dustin did.

"Everyone hold hands," she commanded. They obeyed. "Believe…" Once again, she closed her eyes and began to chant in a monotone under her breath.

Dustin looked at the others surrounding him, men and women whom he loved. They were here for _him_, a mundane cab driver, a brother, a son, a friend. Tears filled his eyes and the appreciation, respect, and love he felt for them was almost overwhelming. He shut his eyes, and it felt like only a few seconds later that a silvery-white light blazed behind his lids. The gasps around him convinced him to peek.

In the middle of the circle, wisps of light formed a brilliant pillar. Some shielded their eyes or squinted. The column beamed out through a hole in the floor, but it was far too bright to see into it.

Leota grabbed Kayode's hand. She was grinning and bouncing in her seat. Her girls giggled with her. "I did it!"

Kayode gave Dustin a nod. "Now's your chance. We don't know how long it'll last. Good luck, and don't take a moment for granted!"

Dustin got up and approached the edge of the portal. "I won't!" He had to take a few deep breaths. This was it, a new beginning, a second chance. "Thank you." He turned to face them one last time. "You've done more for me than I could ever repay you." He gave his parents a final hug. "I feel like such a git for leaving you. We've barely had time to—"

"Oh, pish-posh!" Mr. Desmond squeezed his shoulder. "It's long past time for you to leave the nest. Live the life you were meant to have, son."

His mother stroked his bangs away from his forehead. "We'll always love you. When you come back, we'll have even more to share." She smiled with tears. "Be good, my Dusty," she kissed his cheek.

"I will, Mum." He took a few steps backwards, towards the light. "I'll never forget you. You'll always be in my heart, all of you."

Before he took the plunge, he could hear Bea shout, "I want a niece!"

He fell through fields of white, then black, hurtling down through the universe. A flash of blue, some green, and he knew he was on Earth. As he plummeted, he was hit with the sudden realization that he didn't know where he'd land. Also, there was some nagging memory of Halloween night, about having a body to go back to. How was that going to be poss—

A square of gray drew closer and closer, and it occurred to him exactly where he was going to land.

"Bloody hell."

Like a meteor crashing to earth, he was slammed down into his carcass. His bones rattled with the impact of his soul. The stench of death filled his nostrils, but he couldn't plug his nose. He couldn't even part his lips.

He wanted to scream and tear at the low ceiling, but his body didn't wouldn't so much as twitch. Pain shot through him as nerves began to grow and connect. Around him, he could feel the shell of his decomposed body start to change. Veins, muscles, and tendons grew over his bones. Skin, soft and pink, layered over the inner components like icing on a cake. His lungs tried to expand. He had no air.

When his vocal chords were close to complete, he let out a squeak: "Help me."

* * *

Destiny gave Koji a tight hug before he walked out. "Take care of yourself. Call me anytime. Anything at all you need, let me know."

He tipped his fedora to her. "I'll drop you a line, let you know how things are goin'."

"Please do." She followed him out to his car and helped him load in the cake and gifts she'd bought him. The backseat was full of boxes with snacks, drinks, and C. D.s for the road. A moving truck was waiting back at his house. "You sure you got everything packed up? Need any help?"

"Nah, I'm good." He held out his fist for her to bump and she tapped her knuckles to his. "Keep on keeping on."

"Be safe." She waved until his car was almost out of sight. Then, arms wrapped around herself, she walked over to the front yard crypts. Despite the chilly weather, she laid her cheek against Dustin's name and wished it was his shoulder. "I miss you."

_Thump…_

The sound jolted her back. "What?" She pressed her ear to the cement.

_Thump! Thump! Thump!_

"Is something in there?" She knocked.

"Help…"

"Dustin?" She tugged at the stone drawer until she broke nails and skinned her fingers. "Dustin! Is that you?"

He kicked at the foot of the coffin. "No air."

Her heart was pounding, but she knew Dustin must have felt this terror a hundred fold. She had to be calm for him. Looking around for anything helpful, she spied Dick O' Dell's old shed at the edge of the yard. "I'm getting you out."

She took off and hurled open the shed door. There was a crowbar and a hatchet, so she grabbed both and went to work. Hacking away at the cement with the blade, she grunted and begged and yelled. Each second brought him closer to death. "I'm not going to let you die." Whack! "I won't lose you again."

Before Koji had left the dirt road, he heard the scream in his mind. He hit the brakes and his car screeched to a halt. "The hell?" He looked around. "Des?" Then he heard it again, a piercing shriek that reverberated in his brain. "Destiny!" He turned around and headed back for the mansion. _I don't know what's going on, _he thought, _but I'm not leaving without seeing you're safe. _He didn't even wonder how he heard her voice; he just knew he had to help.

Dustin's eyes rolled back into his head and he let his hands drop to his chest. _It was almost, love. Almost… _

Koji's car was barely stopped when he unbuckled his seatbelt and pushed open the door. "What are you doing?"

"It's Dustin," Destiny rasped, still swinging the hatchet. "He's—he's in there. I don't know how. Just help me get this open. He's dying!"

He didn't bother asking questions. He picked up the crowbar and joined Destiny at the crypt.

Then it happened. The door cracked and slid outwards. Both of them grabbed it and pulled until it fell at their feet. Ignoring the reek of mold, they took hold of the coffin and hauled. It slid out and hit the ground. The lid of the case popped open, revealing Dustin in his rotted clothes. He was pale, his lips barely parted, but his body was fully formed.

In an instant, Destiny was on her knees, pushing on his chest and breathing into his mouth. What felt like an hour took less than a minute. He inhaled, mouth wide open, bringing fresh air into his lungs for the first time in almost a hundred years. Opening his eyes blearily, he whispered, "Am I alive?"

"Yes." She sniffled and pulled him up into a tight hug. "I can't believe this is happening."

He waggled his eyebrows and grinned. "Maybe this will convince you…" He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his lips to hers.

After the lengthy kiss, she pulled back to look into his eyes. "I might need some more proof."

"That can be arranged."

Koji shook his head and rolled his eyes. However, he was smiling when he took off his coat and draped it over Dustin's shoulders. "You guys forgot you have an audience."

Destiny laughed as she blushed. "Sorry Koji." She stood and she and Koji each took one of Dustin's arms to pull him up.

"Jealous?" The former ghost smirked at the former ghost hunter. His legs buckled under him, but his friends caught him before he took a tumble.

"Of you swapping spit? Ew, no."

Dustin let out a giggle. "I can feel the cold. Through my shoes, under my toes. It's brilliant!"

When they got to the porch, Destiny reached forward to open the door. "The heater will be more brilliant. My hands are numb."

"And hungry," Dustin continued as the trio walked in. "Do you have apples? I'd like an apple."

"Anything you want, Dustin."

"Hot tea… and cookies!"

"I'll go whip up a batch." She went in the direction of the kitchen.

Dustin sat on the couch, only to bounce up again. "The loo," he squirmed. "I think I need to use the loo."

Koji held up his hands. "You're on your own there, pal."

Dustin hobbled down the hall to the bathroom. After a couple of seconds, he opened the door and popped his head back out. "I love being alive!" That announced, he slipped back in.

Soon they had hot tea and cookies. For a while afterwards, they reminisced by the hearth. Before he left, Koji got more well wishes and thanks from the happy couple. They watched him drive away and then went in for the night.

Now alone in the house, the young couple sat in front of the fire. They both gazed warmly at one another, the lights dancing across their faces.

"Destiny, I love you with all my heart." No other words he'd uttered had ever seemed so pure before.

Destiny smiled back and laid her head on his shoulder. "And I love you with all my heart too, Dustin."

He sighed heavily as he wrapped his arm around her. For the first time in what seemed like centuries he felt what had been absent before - -the warmth. "Very few people get a second chance, and I know this one is going to be heaven on earth."

In the mansion once possessed from floor to ceiling by ghosts and ghouls, new lives began.

_Epilogue_

_Christmas Eve_

The acoustics of the ballroom saw to it that "Jingle Bell Rock" was heard throughout the house, filling recently silent chambers with the holiday melody. Destiny and Dustin spun past the tree, nearly tripping on the outpouring of presents underneath. A package from Koji had come with a letter detailing his training with his parents and a growing ability to hear souls in trouble.

Destiny knew they had to get to bed soon. Her parents would be arriving in the morning, and Dustin would be the one to make a plan a grand feast. Right now, though, they were having too much fun to head out.

"Mistletoe!" Dustin dipped her low under the dangling leaves and kissed her.

"You have an uncanny knack for twirling me right under that."

He laughed and pulled her up into an embrace. Together they half shuffled, half slow danced to the tree. "I have something for you, an early gift," he panted, giddy.

She draped her arms around his neck and ruffled the hair on the back of his head. "You sure it shouldn't wait for tomorrow?"

"I'm sure." He stepped back and searched the tree. Upon finding an ornament that was a small, cloth stocking, he snatched it. "Ah-ha." He placed it in her palm, grinning and glowing as bright as the lighted branches. "It's inside," he pointed.

She put her fingers in, felt about, and pulled out a silver band with a dainty diamond on top. "Dustin…" she breathed, her eyes widening. "Is this…?"

He plucked the ring from her and got down on one knee. "Destiny," he clasped her hand. "My darling, would you do me the honor of becoming my bride?"

There was no panic this time. No doubts. Not even a second guess.

She squealed and flung her arms around him, knocking them both down. "Yes!" Again and again, she smattered kisses over his lips and face while he laughed and tried to give as good as he got.

Their kanoodling by the tree was brought to a halt by the sound of clapping hands and whistles. They froze and then slowly looked up to see a gaggle of ghosts. Their old friends stood around them grinning and applauding. Asher gave Dustin a wink and a thumbs-up. Bea was bouncing with joy and tittering about nieces. George gave them a noble bow and Lily curtsied.

"No way," Destiny laughed. She sprung to her feet to hug all of them. "What a wonderful Christmas gift! Dustin, did you know?"

"No," he grinned. "How is this possible?"

His brother grabbed him for a noogie. "Unfinished business was declared. We all decided that you two needed some guardian angels, so to speak." He glanced at the table. "Is that champagne?" Not waiting for an answer, he wandered away.

Leota, with Maddy snuggled to her chest, took a look at the huge chamber. "It isn't good to have so many empty rooms in a home," said the psychic. "I wouldn't want that. Some positive spirits will balance out the energy and bring good luck."

George gave Lily a kiss under the mistletoe. "And we have to keep an eye on our estate. It's ancestral, you know. Very important to family heritage and all that."

"Oh, yes, yes, quite," his wife concurred with a wink.

Dustin felt Destiny bump her hip against him and he put an arm around her waist. "So you're staying with us?"

George nodded, distracted by the tree lights. He poked an ornament and was startled when it played a tinny version of "Jingle Bells." "Until our unfinished business is done."

Destiny gave Dustin a quick kiss and turned to watch the playful spooks. "I hope that won't be for a long, long time, Grandpa."

Dustin was the first to notice that three spirits in particular were missing. "Where are the hitchhikers?"

Far down south, beyond the realm of snow, Koji yawned and plodded into his bathroom. When he turned on the light, the reflection in the mirror wasn't nearly as disconcerting as the chaos that followed.

"Kojers!" Ezra, Phineas, and Gus shouted, leaping out of the glass and tackling their buddy.

So it was the destiny of the haunted mansion was fulfilled.

_

* * *

_

_Author's Afterward:_

It's bittersweet having this finished. As you can see, it took years to write, and I was working on it for a long time before the first chapter was even posted. Of course, it started as a simple fan project, something that wasn't supposed to be more than twenty chapters, tops. Over the course of plotting and editing, it turned into a complex fan project spanning hundreds of pages. I'm going to miss working on it, but at the same time, it's uplifting to finally have it done.

Maybe some people out there are wondering why I kept at it. It's stubbornness, partially. I vowed to get this done, no matter how long it took. Destiny is a pet project that became very close to my heart, as silly as that might sound. A lot of it, though, was because of you, the readers. You guys let me know that I was making something that created smiles and sometimes even tears. That's why I write. It brings me joy to bring others joy. Perhaps that's pretentious, especially coming from someone writing fan-fiction, but it's the truth.

Because of your comments and critiques, I knew that Destiny, Dustin, Koji, and all of the others, would see their adventure through to the end. To all of you who read and leave reviews, thank you so much. You let me know what I'm doing right, wrong, or just so-so. That's a huge help that can't be emphasized enough.

I hope you enjoyed the ride. If you did, be sure to hurry back… Hurry back…


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